


Sleeping Mountains

by Dots



Series: Persona Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: (once we get there), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Memories Back, M/M, Post Game, Post Royal, Reunion, loss of appetite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dots/pseuds/Dots
Summary: Goro wakes up one day in a hospital bed with only a bullet wound to keep him company, and not a single memory of who he used to be.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Ohya Ichiko, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Persona Tumblr Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815862
Comments: 55
Kudos: 345





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of tumblr prompt "My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep." 
> 
> Updates will frequent most likely from bi-monthly to monthly. :D

He was almost certain the last few weeks had been a dream.

Or maybe, several long and white coated dreams. The kinds with bright lights at an arm’s length, and ill-fitting clothes, and men coming in waves carrying their clipboards as flags. With deep voices all at once whispering, echoing, “ _what is your name?_ ”

Maybe he was in a hospital.

His first day of full consciousness was slow and lonely. His second day too, time spent wiggling his toes and counting ceiling spots. Day three he asked for a glass of water and scared a nurse out of her skin, and his week was kickstarted. Which only really meant an actual doctor came in and declared retrograde amnesia the only explanation for his condition.

His “ _condition_ ” was quite the word to use. Which condition? They could play bingo. Was it his memory loss (obvious, weak narrative), or could it have been the state of comatose he’d been in (intriguing), or even the bullet wound (now here was a mystery, what a plotline) he’d heard remarkably little about? Amnesia, the fickle bastard, was the type to bring one answer to dinner, and disappear by morning.

But what did he know?

Well, he knew that this was a pretty shitty hospital. As far as how he assumed they should be managed, this one was on a low tier. And according to the nurse, as was their police station. Incompetent and uncaring of his case, which had apparently been made.

It’d been a week now. He could get up. Limited, with his IV, but he could. The nurse said later that maybe the police would listen to him now, since he was conscious and basically up and kicking. ‘Listen to him _now_ ,’ was also an interesting phrase, because he hadn’t been speaking in the first place.

He wasn’t injured. His vitals were fine, the nurses had told him, and commented he was taking up an unnecessary bed. Not that he could actually make any kind of sound argument, which was frustrating enough on its own, but this didn’t seem like proper procedure.

He was, once again, very alone in his room. He thought about going to the police station. Incompetent as they may be, there would be no answers here. There was no one here to help him; some healthy boy in a hospital bed.

He got up. His IV was stuck in poorly, the tape just barely holding on. They’d disconnected him from all sorts of machines. Nothing was roping him down except for saline solution and his own two feet.

And, he was already standing.

It wasn’t hard to pull out.

His hospital gown was tied all the way down, falling just past his knees. He had odd socks on, their texture was weird, and they were several sizes too big. They were thick and patterned, maybe slip proof? But shoeless as he was, they would do.

The hallway was very empty. He was on the ground floor, but he wasn’t sure there were other stories. Maybe one, or a basement. It didn’t matter much. There just wasn’t anyone around. His concern was in that he didn’t know how long their absence would last.

There was a glass door at the end of the hallway.

To the police he’d go. A medical bill dodging amnesiac would probably get him some attention. Enough to get a name?

The door was not locked. That was probably good for a hospital, and not a security breach, which is where his mind had initially gone.

_Doors are meant to be opened_ , he thought. _There really isn’t anything wrong with that._

It was just a little bright outside. The sun was up but not too far. He was in the parking lot, and it was almost entirely devoid of cars. Small, small hospital.

He didn’t exactly have a map, and no nurse was around to give him any condescending directions. He’d might as well go forward, then. He started walking, and thought to himself how odd his feet felt on the concrete.

No one was out. He hesitated to call it deserted, just maybe a bit early. He kept walking, nerves high, still worried he might get mauled by a stray doctor.

It seemed like this was a very small town, going by his surroundings. Lots of trees, and cracked roads, and old buildings. He didn’t think much of taking it all in. He’d have time for sightseeing when he remembered his initials.

A bit farther ahead was a woman, leaning on a car parked on the side of the road. She was glaring down at her phone. She looked— maybe irritated? Or tired. He wondered if he could ask her for directions. An aimless stroll through town wouldn’t take him to where he was going, after all.

“Excuse me,” he called, “Ma’am? Do you know the way to the police station?” He approached her with just enough caution to call it looking out for himself, ignoring the sorry state he was already in.

She glanced up from her phone. Her hair was short, and dark, and it bobbed around her face. She registered him for a moment, and her eyes went big.

“Holy shit.”

He knew enough to know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I need to go to the police, please.”

The woman kept staring at him. “You—” she stuttered, “are you Goro Akechi? You are, aren’t you?”

This encounter was already going awry. Did she know him? “Do you know me?”

“Uh…I mean, no, we’ve never met.” She pushed herself off her car, and slowly put her phone back into her pocket.

That wasn’t really what he meant. He needed to persist here. This could be a lucky hit. “No I— Do you know who I am?”

Blatant confusion spread across her face. “Uh… Are you not Goro Akechi?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

She stared at him again, almost suspicious. Then she looked him up and down.

“Are you… coming from the hospital?”

“Yes.” He watched her mouth open just a bit in disbelief. He wondered how this woman knew him. If explaining would get more information out of her, then he’d do it. Privacy only existed when you had something to protect, after all. “I’ve been given an amnesiac diagnosis, you see. I’m going to the police station to see if I can find any sort of lead on myself.”

She looked shocked. “Amnesia? And you’re going to the cops?” She blinked, and suddenly looked very serious. She grabbed one of his shoulders. “Wait. That’s bad news. Don’t go to the police.”

He (Goro?) hadn’t expected to hear that.“What? And why shouldn’t I?”

“You… holy _shit_ , kid, do you actually have amnesia?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen you need to— oh good god, this is gonna sound like I’m trying to kidnap you— I definitely know who you are. I can tell you but we shouldn’t… here. If someone finds you… ” She exhaled hard, and looked him dead on. It made Goro freeze. “Fuck, okay. The gist of it is— you’re in more danger than you realize. Like, a lot more. Will you come talk with me in my car?”

Alright. So, a lot to process, and a lot he didn’t know how to. He didn’t even know if he _should_ process it, or if that was the kind of story that should be immediately disregarded. Someone telling you to not go to the police and please get in their car seemed like a textbook stranger-danger red flag. There _had_ been something uneasy about her tone, though. Like genuine concern— not that such a thing couldn’t be perfected and acted, however.

But she’d given him a name. And it felt almost tangible, the more he thought about it. Less bendable and more sturdy. It was very easy to attach to himself. And it was a lead, wasn’t it?

“Hey, did you get discharged, or are you just wandering around? Cause they’re gonna be looking for you if they didn’t let you out,” said the woman, jumpstarting Goro (almost certainly, _Goro_ ) out of his head. “And kid, I cannot just let you turn yourself in to the cops.”

‘ _Turn myself in_ ,’ he thought to himself. Such particular wording. It made his stomach drop. This woman knew more than him, clearly. And really, for fucks sake, if he died, he died. Obviously he hadn’t left enough of a mark on anyone to warrant not a single visitor during a five year coma. According to the nurses, it was more evident that he’d simply been dumped in town— like someone had already been trying to get rid of him.

Well, whoever they were, they’d forgotten to bury his bones.

He straightened himself up. “Okay.”

She looked surprised, at first. She swallowed around it. “…Yep, okay then. Hop in before you change your mind.” She popped open her car door, and Goro circled around the side and followed suit.

Her car was messy. It was filled with food wrappers and empty bottles, but papers and notebooks were scattered around, too. So she kept busy, it seemed. He decided he’d consider this a point in the not-about-to-murder-you direction. Too much here that could be used as evidence against her. Too personalized. He was almost envious.

She adjusted her seat forwards and turned on the ignition. She was a bit jittery, Goro noticed, as she scratched the back of her head vigorously.

“So, I’m gonna drive us somewhere that isn’t here but I can talk and drive so, just— like, just a second, okay?”

He nodded. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “…Goddamn,” she muttered, and then pressed down on the gas, turning her car onto the barren road.

She kept her eyes forward, but kept true to her promise of talking. She sighed. “Right. So, uh, to start… Okay, first, my name’s Ichiko Ohya, I’m a journalist. Get that cleared away. Next comes you which is a bit more complicated, but you probably wanna know why we’re dodging cops so I’ll start there. Or, as close to there as I can.”

He would take anything he could get from her, actually. The cops situation was undeniably concerning, but right now he was essentially a sentient empty shell, absorbing everything for the first time. A kid in a metaphorical candy store, but the store was a dodgy reporter who still might be kidnapping him and just stalling. He’d call himself the kid, but it dawned on him he didn’t even know how old he was. Fantastic. More things the hospital staff hadn’t bothered to tell him.

“Your name’s Goro Akechi. I told you that already but, that’s you. At least I’m like, ninety percent sure.” She spared him a glance. “You do look a bit different but all in all I’m— I’m pretty sure. Just the hair and the stubble, you know.”

Goro hadn’t exactly looked in a mirror recently, so no, he didn’t know. He knew he had long hair— certainly longer than Ohya’s. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough and gritty bristles that had prickled onto him. It bothered him that he didn’t know. It _bothered_ him that he didn’t know what he looked like.

Ohya continued, not letting him dwell for long. “You’re also sort of famous. Well, you were, and it was mainly with teenagers and moms in the city, but you were a popular detective. So, that’s how I know you. And I swear I’m getting to the running from cops part, but you have to know this _first_ first. Oh, shit, it’s right here.” She took a sharp turn into a grocery store, and Goro had to grip the side to keep steady in his seat.

She didn’t act very sheepish about it. “Sorry, for that. We’re gonna talk in here.”

She paused her explanation to pull into a spot, which Goro felt a little thankful for because, under his circumstances, that felt like a lot of information to take in. He was well known, but not well known enough that anyone out here knew him. ‘Famous detective’ raised some weird alarms in his head, a position absurd enough that it might be true. It felt unfortunately right, like a disappointing truth. It was different from his name, more unwelcome. But it didn’t click either. Nothing had been clicking at all.

There was a pit growing in his stomach, like something was in there, chewing down on his insides. But he’d found he didn’t care for ignorance, so he would put up with it for as long as it took.

Ohya turned her car off, pushed her seat away from the wheel, and got herself comfortable. She faced him, nonchalant but sincere. “So this is where the really juicy stuff comes in, alright? So like, listen up now, if you weren’t.” There was something very serious about her eyes.

As if he’d have let any of her explanation slip under his radar. “I’m listening.”

That was a good enough answer for her, it seemed.

“I’m trying to think of the best way to explain this, honestly,” she started, thumbing the back of her hand. “You… okay, there was this guy. He was a really big politician that you were involved with, and it’s kind of a gray area as far as what you were doing for him, but you and him worked together. Kind of. He was a really shitty guy.”

She looked like she was considering her words. She turned her focus out the windshield for a moment, and sighed again. “He basically ended up confessing because this group— well, actually, they don’t matter right now. He confessed, and he talked about you. For some of it. It was a long fucking confession. But half of what he said wasn’t even coherent. He was talking about some crazy shit and no one knows what he meant by it. You were part of that whole section.” She paused again, thinking. Goro let the silence sit. He didn’t want to jump to a conclusion until he’d heard her out. Which was proving difficult, truthfully, because this all left a sour taste in his mouth, one that had almost certainly been there before.

“They wanted to take you in for questioning, but you disappeared. And, to add fuel to the fire, they were having a hard time getting any actual concrete evidence,” she began. “Can’t make an arrest based on a confession alone. He did other things, too, and that’s what he ended up being indicted for, but there’s still that problem. This whole chunk of confession is still there that technically lines up with his timeline of events, but there’s no way to prove it. And they technically _did_ get... someone to confirm parts of it, but he left some pretty obvious holes. That’s why they want you,” Ohya’s expression darkened. “At least, publicly, that’s why they want you.”

She readjusted in her seat again. She faced him fully. “This guy— Shido’s his name— he’s got goons. Not to mention, he had complete control over the police, and there are other higher up’s who worked with him. Some of those guys got busted with Shido’s confession, but there’s a few where there just isn’t enough evidence to put ‘em away. These are the ones who you need to watch out for.” She took a deep breath, not finished.

“I’m gonna be frank with you,” she continued. “They want you dead. They don’t want a single loose end, and you’re still dangling. The police _are on their side_. Are you understanding me?”

Goro tried to let the words sink in. That was more than a lot to think about. The creature in his stomach was grinning now, he could tell. But, this was also no time to get overwhelmed. If her words were true— which, the overwrought familiarity of her explanation compelled him to trust them— he needed to keep his head above the water.

“So these— subordinates. You’re saying they’re after my life? They can’t be actively hunting me down, if they have the influence you’re implying, or I’d have been found by now,” Goro said, deciding to ignore the fear creeping up his spine. “So then, what’s my public status? How unlikely was it that I was the egoless comatose patient they were searching for?”

“Uh…” said Ohya, seeming a bit like she was the stunned one. “Well, you’re right, they don’t really have a manhunt right now. I guess I don’t need to worry about beating around the bush here— you’re presumed dead.”

Interesting. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But, obviously, a body was never found. They’re probably prioritizing morgues then, not hospitals. That does explain why I wasn’t discovered after all this time.” Though, if they’re smart, they’d also keep an eye on cases like his. They probably were, in fact. He’d gotten lucky that the police here were clueless.

Ohya gave him a very funny look. “You know, it’s almost creepy how well you’re already taking this. You were in a coma this whole time?” She shook her head. “I’d have thought you’d be more out of it, honestly.”

“Is this not what you’d consider a wake-up call? I’ve been ‘out of it’ for a week. It’s common sense that I’d react like this,” he told her. Just going outside had cleared his head. He had a feeling hospitals had never been a fitting place for him. “Yes, I was in a coma,” he added, as an afterthought. “They said I’d been shot.”

Just as the words left his mouth, he realized the implications that had.

Ohya noticed just as fast. “You said _shot?”_

They’d certainly both had the same assumption— maybe an attempt had already been made after his life.

But there was something that felt wrong about that scenario, too. “I’m not… entirely sure it’s what you think it is,“ he replied. Maybe wrong wasn’t the correct word but, it wasn’t completely right either. “There’s no benefit to not making my body public. And, if they’re really after me, it seems messy, to say the least, that they didn’t finish the job properly.” He tried to speak confidently. The effort was familiar, too. Part of him wondered when he’d get the chance to do some self-analysis and tear himself apart.

Ohya caught on very quick, rolling with every punch Goro gave. “Christ, kid. What kind of shady shit were you into? So we’re thinking you’ve got another group after you?”

“I don’t know.”

He really didn’t. There were missing pieces, but that was evident. He had no end of missing pieces. If he was supposed to be some detective, then maybe he should get on with acting like it, and figure out whatever the hell this was.

Whatever business he’d wrapped himself into.

Ohya, again, spoke too quickly for Goro to finish digging through his own head.

“Man, I’ve really got myself into something haven’t I?” She rubbed her eyes, like she was already exhausted. “Look, I’m a busy woman. Don’t expect much out of me, but apparently I’ve got a bad habit of adopting puppies. So I’ll see if I can at least point you in the right direction, okay?”

He didn’t have much of another choice, other than to let himself be killed. He nodded again, not sure whether to call himself pleased or solemn.

She buzzed her lips and looked at him, obviously thinking. Then she opened her car door. “Well, okay. First things first, you gotta get some clothes, ‘cause you can’t go walking around like that. God, you don’t even have shoes…” She got out and stretched, and then turned back to him for one last comment. “Don’t expect much, okay? I’m not made of money. Don’t you dare go anywhere, either.”

She slammed the door shut and started walking into the store.

Goro was glad for the moment of peace. He let his jaw relax, closing his eyes. He hated how familiar the stress felt, and how desperate he was to welcome the feeling. A life or death promise was about as thrilling as one day should get.

Getting any memory back was his top priority. But he didn’t have an inkling of where to start. He didn’t have a phone, or a computer, and certainly not a home. He guessed he could use a public computer at a library, but just searching himself might raise more questions than answers. They’d be important questions, he was sure, but he wondered about the bias, the assumptions, the fact that it’d be an outside perspective looking in. He didn’t know how delicately he should go about regaining his memories.

Not to mention, he had only the word of a stranger and a low feeling in his stomach confirming he was even Goro Akechi. And now, with the reputation he’d had, if he even wanted to be him was questionable. Memories of such a life seemed… unpleasurable at best, and he hadn’t set himself up to be able to just start over. Remembering his past was his best chance at plain old survival.

He wanted to have some kind of plan before Ohya came back, but he was drawing blanks. What he really needed was someone who knew him personally. Beyond media attention, if there was a single poor soul around who’d actually known him. He found himself doubting such an existence, past anyone who was out for his head.

He heard the car doors unlock, and he opened his eyes. Ohya was walking back with two bags, and she was on her phone again, barely looking where she was going. Well, there goes him having a plan. Bouncing ideas back and forth was the last thing he wanted to do. It was time wasted and he knew he would get frustrated, but his choices were limited. At least Ohya seemed pretty knowledgeable. It was possible she knew more than she was letting on, too.

She opened up the car door and tossed the bags onto his lap. “Hey,” she began, setting herself back into place, “I got your stuff but— I remembered something in there that might be a good starting place for you, if I can run that by ya.”

Or, of course, he could hear Ohya out and avoid idea bouncing all together. She was proving to be a very valuable asset already. Something solid had come by much quicker than he thought.

*****

Ohya’s plan wasn’t bad at all.

She’d told him she had a contact from a few years ago, who was in charge of a bundle of self storage units. Apparently a certain “Goro Akechi” had registered himself one a couple months or so after Goro’s public disappearance. They’d told her once they noticed the name, but Ohya hadn’t taken up the lead at the time. When Goro asked why they’d even told her that, she left it at “ _no reason important_ ,” and kept the topic adamantly off the table. Goro would push the envelope if it weren’t for the fact that his life (a life he didn’t even know he had, for the record, and one that still bothered him) was on the line.

If this unit did belong to him there could be a very solid lead on himself in there, and leads on his acquaintances, too. Ohya didn’t know if the garage still existed, though. So she said she’d give them a call and see if they could figure something out.

Which is what led to Goro sitting in a barber’s chair. After he’d gotten dressed (an ensemble of sweats, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes) Ohya had commented that he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter, and “ _really needed a haircut._ ”

She said something about how he’d always kept himself looking clean, and Goro believed it. He was already feeling discomfited the way he was. So unkempt and basically filthy. So, she decided that while she was getting her contact all in order, she’d pay for him getting a trim and a shave.

She was helping him more than he’d expected her to, in ways he didn’t really expect. But he’d take what he could get. He’d hardly had a reason to say no.

He sat waiting in front of a mirror. He hadn’t gotten a good look at himself until now, but god, she was right, he looked pretty fucking bad.

The first thought that came to him was sickly. Eyes sunken in, deep bags under his eyes. You wouldn’t expect him to have just been in a permanent state of slumber for the past five years. Or maybe the correct assumption would be, a coma hadn’t been enough sleep for him.

His hair was just below his shoulders, and he had a very pitiful looking beard. He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t think that would change much after his haircut, but it made him itch. It was a face that didn’t feel like his. He wanted to rip it off and replace it with a new one, one he knew better.

Maybe he’d never liked looking at his reflection.

Ohya had spoken to the barber for him. The one he got either wasn’t the talkative type, or really got his vibe of not wanting to speak to anyone. She went to work in silence, washing his hair with fruity shampoo and dressing him in a long black apron. That was all fine, albeit uncomfortable, but once she started cutting Goro found he couldn’t watch. The snips were loud, and definite, and left his chest feeling tight. He couldn’t do anything but let his thoughts run blank.

He wondered if that was hair he’d had before his incident, now falling away. He’d have the same eyes, and organs, and teeth, too. But he felt all wrong in this body. Like it had gone on without him.

He was thankful when she moved to his beard. Just for a moment, though, because having someone so close to his face made him want to retreat as far back into himself as possible. A blade so close to his throat. He wondered how hard of a push it would take to make a cut. He wondered how deeply he’d have to go to make it bleed.

Maybe he’d always hated barbers, too.

When she’d announced she was finished, and Goro forced himself to look back in the mirror, it actually took him aback. It had taken years off him. She’d styled his bangs, and left no hair on his chin, but most importantly it was clean. Soft looking. Pleasant.

It was almost enough to distract him from the discolored scar plastered on his forehead.

He stared for probably too long. His disheveled bangs had kept it clearly out of view on his first glance, but now that he was fresh and groomed it pushed its way into the limelight. It was reddish, and almost shiny, and painstakingly circular.

He could feel dread bubbling up. He tore himself away from the mirror, and found an instant sense of relief when he wasn’t staring anymore.

Reflections and barbers. More to read into later, he supposed. He was learning he had been quite the hassle. What an annoyance.

Ohya met him at the entrance. Pure amusement was all over her face. “Shorter than I expected, but you’re looking pretty smart like that.” Her eyes went to his scar, but she made no comment on it. She frowned, but that was all.

Goro didn’t mind her reluctance on the topic. He raised his eyebrows, and spoke with the silent mutual understanding of “ _that is one gnarly goddamn scar_ ” between them. “Ah, and I’m sure the sweatpants add to the look.”

“Watch it,” she snapped back, sliding into her usual demeanor. “Not like I could get you Levi’s, kid.”

She paid for his haircut, and out of the shop they went. They walked to the car in anticipating silence. She had her phone out again, texting someone now. Goro didn’t want to get his hopes up. Texting could mean anything, or nothing, or half of one or the other.

She pushed her seat back getting into the car, and pulled one leg up with her. Goro waited for her to speak, keeping himself tense. He really wouldn’t be able to loosen up if he tried, like a wound up doll who’d gotten stuck.

Ohya broke the quiet. “It’s still there.”

Goro sucked in, but didn’t let himself relax. Nothing ended there. It was one check off a list, but not all of them.

“And can we go in?”

Ohya blew air out of her mouth. “Well, she said she wants to make sure it’s you, because there’s only so many privacy laws she wants to break.” She shrugged at him. “But honestly, looking at you now, there’s not a doubt in my mind you’re Goro Akechi. So, you can chill about it.”

He leaned back into his seat. The tensity had not left him. Something was making him lucky today, and he hated it. He would feel much more comfortable in the mitts of misfortune. But he couldn’t help feeling giddy, too. Like something was rubbing circles into his back, easing, but not erasing, bits and pieces of his concerns. It was something to focus on, and a goal to achieve. Above all, that relief made him feel pathetic.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go today or not, but you look more thrilled than I think I’ve ever seen you, so I’m just gonna take that as a yes.”

He hated the way she worded that. He frowned. “Only if you’re as concerned about my identity as you seemed to be earlier. You’re welcome to take your time, I’m surely not going anywhere.”

“You’re snarky! I never realized you had an attitude,” Ohya laughed.

She got the car going, and they were on their way to the unit. Apparently it was quite a ways, and Ohya advised him he’d better buckle in for a long one.

He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He had things he wanted to think about, and questions he wanted to ask. Working up a tolerance to being active was not something that could be done in a day, but fuck if he wouldn’t try anyway.

It didn’t take long for him to break. Despite how he tried to fight it, Goro fell asleep.

*****

He woke up when they were about ten minutes from the units. Ohya commented she’d thought it was a little funny that he’d been so exhausted doing just about nothing all day, but admitted too that his body was probably pretty weak, and he really should take it easy. As easy as he could, at least.

They were both quiet for the remainder of the drive. The sun was getting low now. They were passing by suburbs between grassy fields, driving past exit by exit. He had no idea how long they’d been going for. Ohya had called herself busy, and Goro believed it, so her continual help felt unusual. People weren’t just _like this_ , he was almost sure.

She also knew things that felt… almost inappropriately relevant to him. The topic of the unit still tingled in the back of his mind. Why had they called _her_ about _his_ storage? And for that matter, why had she even known so much about him? The information she had felt intimate— like the results of a deep investigation. Had this all been yielded from that politician?

But Ohya had a distinct air of privacy. There could’ve been something personal about her aid, but Goro figured that she wouldn’t crack easily. It might be better to leave it— personal matters tended to yield lasting effects, after all. At least, he assumed so. He really wasn’t sure if that was as big of a plus as it appeared on the surface, though.

When the centre came into view, Goro let those thoughts ease into the back of his mind. He could focus on Ohya’s MO later. This was leaps and bounds more important to him; if anything was going to last, it was this. He could play detective, just like he was supposed to, and maybe come across some special clue. Perhaps he could test out his muscle memory and flex whatever skills he presumed he’d had.

They arrived, and it looked extremely closed. Like the only customers they’d been expecting were ghosts. The lights in the windows were off, and the gate guarding the units was shut tight. It wasn’t encouraging.

Ohya read his expression pretty clearly. She bumped his shoulder with her fist. “She knows we’re coming, my contact’s still here. The front just closes at 6:00. I’ll deal with it, so just stay put for now.”

And just as she said, after she hopped out of her car and approached the office, the door swiftly opened and a woman joined Ohya outside. The two of them seemed friendly. Goro watched as they talked, noting quizzically to himself that Ohya was someone who talked with her hands.

Ohya gestured to her car and they both looked over to Goro. He watched them walk over, and obeyed smartly when Ohya signaled him to roll down his window.

The woman peeked her head around to look at him, her eyebrows arched high. “Wow,” she said, completely staring now. “I mean, he looks like him, that’s for sure.”

Ohya grinned. “Sure does. That enough for you to let us in?” She didn’t really say it as a request, more like an expectation. Goro appreciated the tone.

She fiddled with her bottom lip. “Hmm. You said amnesia? He got any doctor’s notes about that?” She asked, giving cue to Ohya’s sour expression.

“You didn’t say a word about notes on the phone, you know.”

The contact clicked her tongue, and looked back to Goro. She bit the inside of her cheek, and sighed. “Just cause it’s you, Ohya, I’ll take that nasty scar on his forehead as my confirmation.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Come with me inside, I’ll get his key.”

Ohya made a haughty noise of achievement, and followed the woman back in. Goro rolled up the window again.

They were taking a little while. He rubbed at his scar absentmindedly. So obviously a bullet wound, maybe that had been the real reason his barber hadn’t made much conversation. Whoever tried to kill him had shot just where it counted. You don’t fire a warning shot into a head. He wondered if he’d deserved it, and doubted he didn’t.

Goro removed his hand when Ohya reemerged from the building, and she was looking confident. She slid back into her car and jingled the key to his unit victoriously. “Easy peasy. She’s gonna open the gate for us in a second. Your unit number is 508.”

They waited for a little while, nerves ever growing, until the automatic gates opened on their own, groaning and creaking until fully extended. Ohya started her car and drove in, squinting at the unit numbers in the low light.

Rows upon rows of garages awaited them. This must’ve been a pretty large lot, by the looks of things. The dirt road was the only uneven piece of scenery, the repetition was endless. He kept a watchful eye on the unit numbers as well, skipping between the evens and the odds.

After a few right turns, and one very tight u-turn, they were there. 508 stood wedged between its neighbors, almost at the end of the row, but not quite. Not a thing stood out about it. It was just as gray and worn and untouched as the rest of the facility. Not even the dirt was remarkable. It reminded him of the hospital.

Ohya held the key out to Goro.

“I’m assuming you want this to be a ‘just you’ kinda thing?”

The gesture was something he should’ve expected, but didn’t. It made him hesitate for a moment.

He took the key. “I appreciate it,” he said.

“No sweat.”

He got out of her car, and she drove off to the end of the row. She stayed parked within general sight of the unit. It was essentially pseudo privacy, but neither of them knew how long he’d be in there, and who knows what this could trigger. Ohya also didn’t seem like she knew a thing about amnesia. He wouldn’t look to her for comfort of any sort, but there was reassurance in her being a safe figure.

He took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This was his step one. He’d gotten himself into some deep shit, his past self hadn’t seemed to have a shred of self preservation in mind. Had he not encountered Ohya, he could’ve been dead by the hands of the crooks that call themselves the police by now. He had a lot more steps to cover, and each one would be riskier than the next. He was much more on his own than he realistically should’ve been. Most people had _friends_ , as far as he knew. But this was seemingly his own fault. He wanted to know why exactly it was his fault.

One more deep breath.

He inserted the key into the lock, and grabbed the handle of the metal shutter. He pushed up, and with a squeak of rust and a bang of metal, he opened up his door to more dangerous times.

And it was nearly empty.

It was barren concrete. Newly disturbed dust was floating about. It was eerily quiet, and the stale air made his throat itch. Cobwebs stuck in the corners, barely visible in the low light of the setting sun. Though he wouldn’t call it underwhelming.

In the center of the floor was a cardboard box. About medium sized, without a lid. It matched well with the rest of the room, lined with dust and unaltered. He kneeled in front of it.

It was its contents that felt much more exciting. There were papers, lots of them. Thick manila envelopes full of information for him to flip through. He scooted back towards the entrance and pulled the box along with, trying to get the last of the light funneling in to help him read.

It was heavier than he expected, and he didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current lack of strength. He took out the first envelope and it, despite the dust, was clear and candid. When he flipped it around, he noticed with eagerness that there was writing on the front. He tried to make it out as clearly as he could, and in careful handwriting, it read: “ _05/21/2016— Case No. 1471_ ”

It was a case file. He pulled out another envelope, and it was similarly marked. His interest was surely piqued. There must’ve been some sort of relevance to these, if they were going to be so pointedly left here. He pulled out a third, and then a fourth, and from the weight he’d expected many more. But, the pile ended there. Instead, what filled the rest of the box was another, smaller, wooden one.

He took it out delicately, gripping it securely around the sides to ensure he didn’t drop it. This seemed much more… personal. Shiny cherry wood, latched but not locked, just small enough to sit on his lap firmly. A thought that couldn’t help but be excited came to mind.

_This could’ve belonged to me._

He wasted no time. He undid the latch, and it gave a satisfying click. The hinges creaked just barely as his clammy hands lifted the lid, and pulled all the way back, until it rested hanging by itself.

Inside sat more papers. Some were crisper than others, some had obviously been crumpled and then flattened out again. But there was consistency in each of them being folded neatly in half, stacked neatly on top of each other.

He picked up the one from the beginning of the pile, unfolded it, and was surprised to find it had hardly been written on; a simple “ _To you_ ,” at the top. This was a candidate that had been clearly wadded up and discarded. He set it down carefully, and picked up the next.

This one hadn’t been written on much, either. It said even less, just “ _Hello_.”

He picked up another, and another. It was all soft stationary, each topped with slightly different wordings, and some decorated with a couple lines, even. But they were all just about the same, a simple greeting, and then resigning.

They were letters. Or rather— drafts for one. So he’d learned today that he was indecisive, maybe a bit quick tempered, but potentially also at least organized. He assumed the existence of these drafts meant he’d never gotten around to sending his letter, either. And perhaps he’d never get such a chance, if this visit didn’t convince any muggy memories to creep out of their caves.

As he pulled out drafts and read his pathetic one-liners, he came across a page that was different. There was actually a fair amount of content on it, over a paragraph’s worth. It had obviously also been cast aside, but even a spare scrap could be useful to him, in this state. He used the last of the remaining light to read it.

“ _To whom it may concern,_

_I would like to skip the inherent shamefulness of writing a letter to you, of all things, in my introduction, and I will title this ambiguously under the assumption that if you believe this does truly not concern you, that you will save me the mortification of reading through it anyways._

_I won’t formally phrase this as a farewell, but you should take it as one._

_Our unknowns are too great to write, and while you were not innocent, neither am I, and there are truths between the two of us that shouldn’t have remained unspoken. I’ve never thought to run from the blame._

_My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to sleep._

_Perhaps a fact I recognized too late._

_I do not want to say goodbye, however I—_ “

It cut off.

The letter left a lump in Goro’s throat. He read it through once more. He wanted to analyze each sentence down to its core, but the light had died out. But there were bits and pieces, words that suck out in his mind. “ _Farewell_ ,” “ _Innocent_ ,” “ _Unspoken_.”

“ _Too late_.”

Goro bit down on his lip hard. The case files— those he understood. With the life he’d allegedly lived and the people he’d known, of course something like that would be predominant. They were fact on paper, ignorant of bias, they’d be full of names and leads. They were important. But, he didn’t understand why these almost-letters had been left here. Out of anything that could’ve been kept. Had there been someone he’d felt so strongly for? To be kept in safety behind lock and key?

To identify this person— that could be his next goal to achieving his memories. To ignite the fire of their eventual reunion, and perhaps they would know what happened to him. They could come easy, though he suspected that anyone who he’d decided to be so rottenly open with wouldn’t be typical. But, they would also know him, past the media, past the appearances.

And, though he wasn’t going to admit it, he’d needed something more hopeful to work towards.

He put the papers back where they belonged, placed the entire case back into the cardboard box, and stacked the case files back atop it.

There was no telling how old these letters were. They could’ve been from much before his incident. But this set him up for a goal, a big one, that might get him back to whatever meager place he’d left himself in.

He picked up the box, and prepared himself to head back outside to Ohya. He needed to muster up his resolve, because this was only the first out of two very important clues this visit could provide.

He positioned the box onto his waist, and took one last look into the dark before closing up his unit. He returned to Ohya’s car, pulling open the door without so much as a greeting, and set the box on the floor in front of his seat.

Ohya leaned forward, interested. “That a box you got?”

He wasn’t going to talk about the embarrassing letters he found. Even if he wanted to, his second clue came first. “It’s not that important right now,” he lied. “Is your contact still here?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, but let the topic drop. “Sure is. She can’t leave ‘till we leave.”

Good. “I need to speak with her.”

She hummed in reply, seeming very curious by his idea. They drove back up to the entrance, Ohya not questioning his motives, but still giving him an inquiring side eye every so often.

They got out of the car together this time, and walked into the front office. The woman was reading behind the counter, almost completely in the dark, with only a desk lamp lighting her work area.

She glanced up at them, and placed her book upside down. “Hey there. You got that key?”

“Yes,” Goro replied. He placed it lightly on the counter. She took it without a word, and got up to put it back on its hook. Goro stopped her before she turned. “I have a question for you.”

She seemed a little surprised. She glanced between him and Ohya, and then put her free hand on her hip. “Okay?”

He hoped he could push his luck just a bit further today. He’d made it this far, after all.

“Is there any way I can see the documentation that was filed when this unit was made?” he asked.

The woman pursed her lips. “Ohya?”

Ohya put her hands up defensively. “Don’t look at me. This is all him.”

The woman stared at Goro. He stared back. This was arguably the most important part of the visit. He needed to see those papers. Just a single particular part, it was the one factor that needed an explanation. He would not leave until he got that documentation, and if he had to stand his ground and pull her leg a bit to get it, he would.

After their staring contest lasted just a moment too long, she folded her arms. “Jeez. Only because I feel bad for you, okay?” she huffed, turning on her heel. “And because my niece liked your food blog.”

She disappeared into the back of the office, leaving Goro feeling just a bit full of himself. He would think about the food blog comment later.

Ohya lightly punched his arm. “Okay, good going. But whatcha going to do with that?”

“There’s something I need to check,” he replied flatly. It made Ohya grunt unenthusiastically.

The woman returned with a few papers, all paper clipped together. She tossed them onto the counter. “This is a customer copy, okay? So feel free to keep it.” She glared at Ohya. “ _And_ , I’m going home now. So, get out, please.”

That got a laugh out of Ohya. “I know I can always count on you to bend a couple of rules for me.”

“Out.”

They left the building, Ohya waving her last goodbyes while Goro rushed to the car. He needed to get some light on these papers, it was long past sundown now. He slid himself in, clicked on one of the lights, and went to work reading, all while Ohya was still walking over.

Ohya opened her door and stood outside watching him, leaning on the frame. First, it was with interest, but it soon turned into irritation.

“Kid, tell me what you’re looking for. You’ve got your eyeballs all over that thing,” she said.

He didn’t let their conversation stop him from reading. He kept his eyes glued to the page, checking each word and box before moving on.

He did owe her an explanation. Getting his thoughts out would help him focus a bit, anyway.

“These sorts of things— storage units. Wouldn’t they be paid for recurrently?”

Ohya went quiet for a moment. “They are,” she said, and joined him in the car. “Shit. Those funds can’t be coming from you, can they.”

“Exactly. I’m looking for the responsible billing party.” He turned onto the next page. None of the handwriting matched what he’d seen on his papers and files, which further confirmed to him that this unit hadn’t been one he’d purchased himself. Whoever this was had put all that information in there, those cases, those letters. He suspected they weren’t his mystery recipient, but he could confirm that with them once they’d met.

Why this had been done in his name, though, was beyond him.

He flipped onto the last page, and found his prize. Big black bolded letters asking for the responsible parties name, and neat penmanship filling in the blank.

“Sae Niijima,” he read aloud.

Ohya gawked.

“‘Sae Niijima?’ Seriously?” she scoffed to herself, and sunk down further in her seat. “She’s an attorney. A damn good one, too.”

An attorney? He wondered how she could’ve known him. “She’s the one paying, apparently.”

Ohya tapped long slender fingers onto her steering wheel again. She dropped her head. “Guess that means she’s our next lead, huh?”

Goro adjusted himself in his seat. “It does.”

“Ahh, man,” she complained. “You’re really somebody who’s in with the big guns, you know. You better let me have some exclusive with you after all this is done, or something.”

Goro gave way a hint of a smile. Probably his first since he’d woken up. If this would be the last of his luck, so be it. He hated to rely on something so shifty and mischievous, anyways. This was a start, barely a sprout, to whatever his big picture was. But he’d see himself to the very top.

Really, he’d already died once. Hardly a way to go but up.

“We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: [honeydots](https://honeydots.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [honey_dots](https://twitter.com/honey_dots)


	2. Chapter 2

Goro was growing restless.

It’d been a week since Ohya and Goro had met, meaning it had been a week since they’d found their new lead and a week since they’d done nothing but stay in a motel and wait.

Goro knew he shouldn’t be impatient. Ohya had a job, and she’d been working very hard trying to maintain it while getting information on Sae Niijima. It was appreciated, but he wanted to move on. He’d been passing the time reading his case files and letters, but all it’d done was raise more questions and leave him irritated. The letters hadn’t given him much. Only the one he’d read in the unit had substantial amounts of content, and he had annoyingly never referred to his recipient by name. Whether it was out of embarrassment or stubbornness, he didn’t know, but this lead wasn’t going to take him very far.

The only real defining factor was that some of them had been _dated_. There were two— one for November 25th, and one for December 9th. It hadn’t specified the year, which was frustrating, but he assumed it coincided with about when he disappeared. The content he’d found in the case files helped to confirm that.

The files were about a group in Tokyo called, ‘ _The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_ ,’ who had run around the city for a year dodging cops and, “stealing hearts.” It was all cold and hard information about victims and potential motives, pieces of evidence. Goro found the files odd, because even with his untrained (well, currently “untrained”) eye, he could see that there were discrepancies. It was like there had been a great deal of neglect, or perhaps even someone deliberately leading the case astray. There were leads _he_ would’ve taken, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why they weren’t.

The files were, again, frustrating because there had been quite a few names stricken from the record. Most relevantly, the suspect they’d brought in as the leader. Goro wasn’t sure he’d have seeked out the people in the files specifically, but the more information the better.

When he’d asked Ohya about the Phantom Thieves, she’d told him it made sense that those cases were among his belongings, because they were the last ones he worked. But he found it very odd, because really it _didn’t_ make much sense that they’d be included with something so personal like his letters. It made him wonder if they had something to do with his disappearance. The files were deliberately left there, and it was hardly as if these criminals weren’t public knowledge.

Goro had put his mind to this many times. Ultimately, he needed more information. Sae Niijima had been a key part of the case, both in working it and as a _victim_. Though, with the unique outcomes of the cases, being a victim was less likely to be in Goro’s favor. She was bound to have some of the information he’d been looking for.

Trying to meet with her was a risk in itself. Ohya hadn't found any reliable means of communication yet, and they were both a bit skeptical if she was to be trusted. Ohya told him Goro had worked with Niijima in the past, and he confirmed that looking at the cases. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have turned on him. If she had been a victim of the Phantom Thieves, and if they had something to do with Goro’s five-year wipeout, it could spell trouble.

But she was all they had. Right now, they couldn’t start anywhere without getting to her first.

Goro was alone in the motel at the moment. Ohya had gone out to pick up a lunch, probably from one of the fast food places around the area again. He couldn’t do anything but wait. He layed staring at the ceiling in bed, still trying to figure out how to work himself up to having enough energy to last through a day. Comatose had affected his body poorly, as one might expect. Just after eating gave him the biggest bursts of energy, and just before having him at his most lethargic. So he was feeling pretty pathetic on the bed, rolling around and too tired to even think much.

He heard the lock click and glanced over to see Ohya return, hands full with a bag of presumably their lunches and a frown on her face.

“Hey,” she said, sitting down at the foot of his bed. “I got some subs. I dunno what you like so there’s just everything on it.”

Goro sat up. He also didn’t know what he liked, so he might as well go through some trial and error here.

He didn’t ask about Ohya’s expression. She was bound to speak up on her own anyway, if Goro had learned anything about her by now. She pulled out a sandwich and handed it to him, her eyebrows deeply knitted.

When she took her own lunch out she only held it in her hands. She blew air out of her mouth, gnawing on the bottom of her lip.

“So, I have a really bad idea. But, unfortunately, I also think it’s our only possible idea,” she said.

And he’d been right. Ohya wasn’t one to wear such an expression without explaining herself.

Goro unwrapped his sandwich. “And that idea is?”

She hummed unenthusiastically. “We’re probably just gonna have to try and snag Niijima-san right as she gets outta work.” She just about cringed saying it, and started twiddling with her sandwich wrapper. “I’ve sent her like three emails, but I’m not getting replies. Granted I’m not telling her I’ve got _Goro Akechi_ sitting around in a motel with me, but I don’t know how secure the lines are.” 

“Is there no phone number? She’s a defense attorney, isn’t she?” Goro asked, before taking a bite of his lunch. It didn’t taste like much. He couldn’t say he liked it, but he wasn’t sure what was bad about it either. He might as well keep eating it.

“There’s a number sure, but it’s for her whole office. I’m gonna get some paralegal if I call, and I don’t wanna end up getting more people involved in this than I need to. And to add fuel to the fire, we’d have to make up a whole case.”

That was a sound defense. There wasn’t much of a guarantee of when they would see her if they tried to file something official, anyway. Not to mention making something up would be less than ideal. Too many ways they could get caught, or indicted for something different altogether.

Now Goro was frowning, too. “There must be another option than just confronting her. I, at least, need a way to gauge how trustworthy she is before we’re face-to-face.”

Ohya pushed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “I know it’s your literal life we’re talking about, so I can’t blame you for the nerves, but I actually think we’ll be fine on that front,” she began, though not sounding confident enough to back her claim. “She kinda… I’ve got pretty solid reason to believe she isn’t gonna like, try and run you down if she sees you.”

“And that reasoning is?”

Ohya scratched the back of her neck and finally took a bite of her food, speaking between bites. “Wellll it’s not gonna make much sense if I tell you. Just trust me, okay?”

“Really?” Goro deadpanned. He’d like more than a _hunch_ that he wasn’t going to be hanged and quartered the moment he stepped into Tokyo. He hated how often Ohya kept key pieces of information from him. He knew she had a private life, but this was ridiculous.

“Don’t gimme that face! It’s just about a guy I’m pretty sure we mutually know.” Ohya defended herself, now completely tearing into her sandwich. “It’s hard to explain, so just trust me on this. I think we’ll be fine.”

He did not let up his glare. She was annoyingly stubborn about keeping things to herself. She surely wouldn’t buckle under pressure, but he’d let her know he was dissatisfied.

Goro did trust that she'd exhausted most other options. She was thorough and obviously practiced. But trust was a two way street, and Goro was driving 100 miles an hour in a different lane.

Ohya looked dissatisfied herself. Even if she knew she was asking for a lot, it hardly made a difference. Sentiment only went so far.

She spoke up. “If it all goes south, we can figure something out. I’ve got connections all over the place. I’ll make sure you’re safe, kid, so relax.”

Maybe she had his best in mind, but this was beginning to make his blood boil. _Relaxing_ was out of the question. Relaxing felt like an open armed death trap. Her claim was flimsy. If her connections were so relevant, why not contact them _now_? Put themselves first and keep his life out of the equation. Last resorts were hardly reassuring.

He knew their options were limited. He needed to calm himself down. Ohya being willing to help him thus far was nothing short of a miracle, and he couldn't expect everything to work out perfectly. He knew she was trying for him, but fuck was it hard not to get irritated.

He would only run his mind in circles if he kept this up.

Goro set down his lunch, not feeling hungry anymore. He grinded his teeth together, letting the headache that came with it dull his thoughts. “Then when do we leave?”

If they were doing this, he’d might as well get the show on the road.

Ohya pressed her lips together. She looked absently at his unfinished sandwich for a moment, then probably decided it wasn’t worth the thought. “I was thinking like… half an hour? Catch her as soon as she’s off, you know.”

Goro tensed. They planned to go _today?_ Not that he minded in the least, but he hadn’t expected her forwardness. Granted, they hardly had anything left in the plan (if they could call it that, it being so meager) to mull over, and there was no denying he’d been absolutely itching to get somewhere. There was nothing about staying put that appealed to him.

He spoke firmly. “Alright."

“Awesome.” Ohya sounded relieved. “I’d tell you to pack up, but you don’t have much, huh.”

He held back asking whose fault that might be, largely because technically it wasn’t only hers either. Which one of them had the bullet wound again?

All he had (that wasn’t already on his body) was another cheap set of clothes Ohya bought him. The best he could do was fold them up neatly and put them back into the plastic bag they came in. It took maybe two minutes. Not a fantastic way to fill up time.

He decided he would take a final shower before they left. Showering was the first thing he’d done then night they went to the motel, and he continued to routine one per day. Some days he would wash his body and hair, try to scrub away the stale hospital smell he carried around and wonder about faded scars. Others, he would simply stand in the hot water and try to feel like he was floating away, that he wasn’t here nor there, trying to grasp a distant thought.

Ohya had commented once that he must’ve been the thinking type, because his showers tended to be long. He supposed he couldn’t deny that, though he wasn’t sure trying to sever his mind from his body counted as plain old thinking.

Today though, he thought. He turned on the water and stepped inside, closing his eyes and letting himself wander around his head.

He wondered what Sae Niijima might be like. If he had to escape her, it would be best if she were someone more docile. Though, as an attorney, he doubted she’d be a pushover. It was more likely she’d be aggressive to him and Ohya, and in which case, what then? Would they just run away, pile back into Ohya’s car and drive off? If she was their enemy, getting information out of her immediately would be their best bet. He was sure after such an encounter that she would be on guard, so acting quick was the most viable option.

He’d have to keep his eye out for her reaction. If they got nothing out of her but the fact that she was out for Goro’s head, that would still be a lead. They’d know to avoid people around her, and that maybe these “Phantom Thieves” _were_ a direct enemy of his. If Ohya could draw out any back alley information about them, they might discover even more to look out for. Defining their adversaries would be undeniably useful. He’d make the most out of this encounter.

A surefire escape was going to be fully necessary. If push came to shove, he was sure he could figure out the basics of driving. Maybe muscle memory would kick in, assuming that he’d had a license. He hoped, no matter how unsure, Ohya’s city connections could keep them away from trouble. Even if just for a little while.

He took a deep breath. He would have to be on his toes. Surety was a distant wish, but he was _going_ to make it out of this alive. There was no other choice.

He turned off the water, feeling about as prepared as he could. He dried off his hair and got dressed, adamantly keeping himself out of the reflection of the mirror.

Ohya was waiting for him on her bed. She was scrolling through her phone, with all of her belongings put away and packed up next to Goro’s pathetic bag of clothes.

She looked up at him. “Alright. You all set to go?”

He straightened his back. Now or never, he supposed.

“I’m ready.”

*****

The drive to Tokyo was long. They really hadn’t been anywhere near the city.

They had talked about precautions on their drive there. The idea was that Ohya was going out to find Niijima and give her a talking to, while Goro stayed in the car. She said she planned to park in a garage, or even an alleyway if they could find one large enough near Niijima’s office.

It was vital that no one other than potentially Niijima saw Goro. And that if they did end up talking it was done under safe circumstances. No interacting until Ohya had deemed the coast clear, and to follow any of her directions acutely. If there was any danger Goro was to hide and listen, run if instructed. Ohya kept a taser on her and told Goro he should hang onto it in the car.

He felt… a bit better after their talk. He couldn’t help but think that this might go smoother if he had a phone of some sort, but that was out of the question right now. It was his job to read Ohya’s expression and movements to keep the both of them out of trouble. He trusted that Ohya could get a fair bit of information out of Niijima on her own, considering it was her occupation to do just that. It was a very useful guise.

As they drove closer to the city and populations rose, Ohya glanced at him with a scowl.

He didn’t know what to make of that. “...Yes?”

She didn’t reply, but continued to steal uneasy glances all around. Goro watched her, trying to figure out what had gotten her so antsy.

They hit a red light, and Ohya took that as a chance. She took her sunglasses off her head and handed them to Goro.

“I get it’s not much but—something’s better than nothing. Put these on,” she said, before turning back to the wheel and resuming their drive.

Goro frowned at them. They were big and bulky with shiny orange lenses. He didn’t know what he’d worn before this, but he felt starkly like these did not fit the bill. They were surely to prevent anyone from recognizing him (which technically meant it would be a plus that they were out of his ordinary) but he wasn’t pleased about it.

Ohya noticed his tentativeness. “Oh, just wear ‘em. It’s not the end of the world if you put on some sunglasses.”

He’d been about to, anyway. He slid them on and watched his surroundings turn orange, trying to avoid seeing how ridiculous he looked in the rear-view mirror.

“You look great,” Ohya remarked, flashing him a wide smirk. “But in all seriousness, don’t take them off until we’re outta town.”

The rest of their ride was in silence, Ohya checking street names while Goro sat with his arms crossed. As more people passed by though, he did begin to feel relieved by the glasses’s presence. He tried to make himself as small as possible in the car, but made an effort to take in his surroundings once they were in the heart of the city.

It was extremely crowded, and they ended up a little stuck in traffic. Ohya didn’t seem bothered by it, so Goro took the chance to see if this could spark up some kind of familiarity. He had spent a lot of time around here, hadn’t he? It was a big area, but maybe there would be something that could flip a switch in his mind.

It didn’t happen. They drove all the way up to the building and there was absolutely nothing of note. It was disappointing, but expected. Ohya ended up parking in a nearby garage, placing them in the back.

She turned off the car and slid back her seat, as she usually did. “Okay, we’ve been over ground rules, and I’m assuming I don’t need to tell you twice. But I’ll only bring Niijima-san back here if I’m sure she’s safe. She probably won’t be coming to this garage on her own, so just worry about anyone else seeing you until I get back.”

Goro nodded, and Ohya let out a long exhale. She unbuckled and reached to the backseat of her car to grab a notebook. She looked at Goro again for a long second.

“Stay safe, okay?” 

And she opened her car door without looking back.

Her concern over him felt troubling. He couldn’t say that either of them had a significant bond of trust to one another, which meant that she probably felt his situation was incredibly dire. Possibly more than she’d ever implied.

Goro could handle a little uncertainty. He wished she wouldn’t keep details from him.

He waited in the car, trying to imagine when he might be able to eliminate this dependence on her. If this went well, that instance could come by any day now. Her help was necessary, but doing things on his own felt natural. He had a feeling he’d been a solitary sort of person before this.

Quite a bit of time passed. The occasional person would wander into the parking garage, and in that case Goro would slip further down in his seat, trying to keep any attention off of him.

After what must’ve been an hour, Ohya came back. She was alone, and looking dejected. When she caught eye of Goro, she shrugged at him. He guessed that meant the interaction hadn’t been useful. At least it didn’t seem like they were about to be hunted down.

Ohya was walking towards the car when another woman entered the parking garage. She must’ve said something, because it made Ohya whip around and face her. The woman started walking towards the back, and Ohya made a faux relaxed pose, hands slipping into her pockets.

But not before she motioned her hand for Goro to stay very put.

Ohya started talking, and Goro made it out the best he could.

“Niijima-san,” Ohya began, “And here you told me you wouldn’t take an interview. Changed your mind?”

Goro’s whole body froze. This woman was Sae Niijima? He couldn’t say she looked much like how he imagined her. She was a very tall woman, stern seeming and focused. If this turned into a rotten interaction, she might be hard to escape. He tried to shrink down further and blend into his seat.

“No,” Niijima replied, and Goro watched Ohya’s shoulders fall. She seemed stiff, and Goro didn’t blame her. They were in a very dangerous locale for the conversation.

“Then what can I do for you?” Ohya continued, keeping her composure. That was admirable; he expected as much from a reporter. It had been aggravating before, but her ability to withstand pressure was very useful.

Niijima stopped walking and stood face-to-face with Ohya. They weren’t far from the car now. It was dark, but he could tell Niijima was thinking about something.

She crossed her arms. “I wanted to know if you’d tell me who asked you to investigate Goro Akechi in the first place.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. Ohya had brought up his name? He wondered if that meant she’d gotten a little desperate. If they got out of this safe and sound, he’d have to ask what they’d discussed.

Ohya acted unphased. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, sorry. You know this kinda business.”

“I see." She didn't seem surprised. 

“Mind if I ask you why you’re interested?” Ohya pushed on. “I’ll keep it off the record if you want.”

Niijima glanced away. She was quiet for a long moment.

“He was… a friend, in a way. I’d like to make sure his memory is preserved properly.”

Goro gripped the side of his seat. A _friend,_ she’d said? That was unexpected. He didn't let “ _in a way,_ ” go, either. It drove a gushing feeling through his stomach. She easily could’ve said coworker, or that they’d been acquainted. A partial friend made him all the more curious about their partnership.

Ohya put her hands on her waist, and leaned in towards Niijima. “Okaaay. So, what would you say if I told you this was a strictly personal investigation?”

Goro watched Niijima’s eyes grow a bit wider. “Personal? You knew him?”

“Hmm yeah, you could say that.” Ohya tilted her head to the side. “I’m just trying to find out what happened to the poor kid.”

Goro could tell what she was doing. This interaction was vital to gauging how trustworthy Niijima was. Her reactions would tell them everything. Goro watched closely and listened even harder.

“I see,” Niijima said, her face relaxing just a bit. She loosened her folded arms. Somehow, she looked a little sad, or maybe she was trying to sympathize. She was much harder to read than Ohya, and that was as if Ohya wasn’t already difficult.

“Thought I might poke around and get some different perspectives, see if I could piece anything together for myself,” Ohya explained. She made lying through her teeth look natural. A short thought in Goro told him he could probably relate.

Niijima furrowed her brow. “He’s a dangerous topic, I’m sure you know. There’s all sorts of people trying to get information on him.”

“Yourself included?” Ohya probed.

She raised her eyebrows, then gave a very small smile. “I suppose you could say that. Though I’d say I’ve been through pretty much everything about him,” she said. Goro took note of the line. He had been thoroughly investigated by her. If she wasn’t lying about their "friendship" (perhaps a friendship that was pending?), that would give way to some form of trust. He was skeptical, but could feel the air lightening.

Niijima’s smile fell. “However, I mean it when I say you should be careful about who you ask. I’d suggest you drop the topic entirely, in all honesty. You don’t want the wrong people painting a target on your back.”

Another very particular piece, one that Goro considered for a long moment. There _was_ a divide, and she had announced which side she was on. A definite point in her direction.

But only if she wasn’t lying.

“Well, that’s a no-can-do there,” Ohya said, shrugging more performatively than before.

“You sound like you have a reason for that.”

“I sure do." Ohya took a step closer to Niijima. “Cause I’ve got quite the lead right now, and I’m not one for giving those up.”

Feeling dread begin to bubble up, Goro realized Ohya had made her decision. He gulped, debating if it was one to get behind.

“A lead?” Niijima asked. She looked amused, but also deeply concerned. Goro could guess why, to an extent.

He knew his options were extremely limited. Trying to ready himself, he took a deep breath and firmly gripped the taser in his pocket. He wondered if he might begin to resent Ohya after this. 

“A hot one. I’m willing to tell you, if you like. Though, same standard here, it’s gotta stay off any records.” She phrased it like it was some kind of witty bargain.

Niijima’s suspicions seemed to grow. “Sure. Tell me.”

Goro could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s less of a ‘telling’ thing, and more of a ‘showing’ thing.” 

She turned around, and waved at Goro to come out. 

Ohya had made her final judgement. Goro couldn’t convince himself this wasn't going to go spiraling downhill. That Sae Niijima wouldn't toss him into a casket, alive and screaming, until he suffocated six feet under.

He did not trust her. He’d say at most that he had more faith than before that she wouldn’t shoot him in the skull, right on his bullseye.

But he had to admit that this was a chance. If they needed to escape, they could. If they needed to toss a body in the trunk, they would. And if he’d gain some sense of familiarity from holding a shovel in his hands and retching from the smell of blood mixed with soil, then he would.

He was making it out of this alive.

Goro walked out of the car, taser heavy in his pocket, eyes forward and teeth clenched.

Niijima looked confused for a moment, surely trying to make him out in the dark. Goro lifted up the sunglasses onto his forehead, and watched as her very composed expression broke into shock.

There wasn’t a moment wasted. She walked up to him briskly, making Goro instinctively back off and jerk a hand to his pocket. She got close enough to tightly grip his forearms, to hold him firmly and stare straight in his eye.

He absolutely could not look away. Her intensity was beaming, and Goro broke into a cold sweat.

“You— Akechi-kun,” Niijima stuttered, obviously at a loss for words. “You’re alive. You’ve been— _alive_ this whole time?”

“I—” Goro tried, ultimately not knowing what he was even going to say. His mind felt like it was going blank. Her gaze felt lethal.

Niijima kept talking. “How did you avoid— Where were you? What have you been _doing? Akechi-kun?_ ”

“Hey, let's not bombard him with questions like crazy,” Ohya interrupted, looking bewildered herself. “Niijima-san, uh, he’s not gonna be able to answer you super well.” She walked over to the both of them, probably trying to act as a mediator. She looked like she felt pitiful, and the sentiment would've felt misplaced Goro's attention wasn't elsewhere.

“Look he's— he’s got amnesia. And a pretty bad case from what it looks like.”

There was a long moment of silence as Niijima registered that. 

Her grip softened. “Amnesia..?” she muttered, before backing off Goro entirely.

Released now, Goro straightened out his shirt, and looked up at her properly. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“I… take it you’re Sae Niijima?” As if he didn’t already know.

There was another short silence.

“Shit,” she cursed.

Ohya kept her eyes on Niijima. “Yeah. We’re trying to figure it out.”

Niijima bit down on her lip. Goro figured it was typical that she would look so troubled.

But the fretting didn’t last long.

“We need to talk _now_ ,” she said sternly, pinching the bridge of her nose. Goro wondered what must've been going through her mind.

She checked over her shoulder and continued. “We can’t stay in here. Anyone could be listening, but you need to explain what happened to you.”

Ohya nodded. “Probably a good plan. You wanna meet somewhere, then?”

Goro glanced to Ohya, who just waved him off. He clenched his jaw tighter and found the headache much more unwelcome this time.

“My apartment should be fine. I'll pull my car around and you can follow behind.” Niijima checked her watch. She frowned at it, but didn’t make a comment.

“Sure,” Ohya agreed, but Goro wasn't convinced. There was no guarantee that she wasn’t going to lead them somewhere dangerous, or that she wouldn’t make an incriminating call once she left their sight. He couldn't let this end here. 

“Wait,” Goro interjected before Niijima could turn to leave. He lifted his chin. “How do I know I can trust you? I’m sure you’re very aware my life is on the line, Niijima-san. I would appreciate something more concrete than your word.”

He expected the short hummed response from Ohya. He did _not_ expect his remark to be met with a look of fondness from Niijima. Goro felt he’d assumed rightfully that she was a serious woman. Why such a look for an _"in a way?"_ He would never let it show on his face, but she was catching him off guard.

“Do you have any other option?” Niijima asked, and Goro felt the tips of his fingers twitch. Obviously no, he didn't, but he wouldn’t say that. If withdrawing information could get him to ensure he came out of this on top, he would keep his mouth shut. He simply waited for her to go on.

She sighed. “Would you prefer it if I gave you the address of my apartment upfront? I promise I won’t lead you anywhere malicious, but if it grants you peace of mind it isn’t a problem.”

She was very quick to realize that was one of his concerns, Goro thought to himself.

“That’d be cool,” Ohya chimed in, “And a phone number’d be nice, too.”

Niijima nodded. “Of course. But we need to be quick about it. It’s safer if no one sees him.”

“He can wait in the car,” Ohya remarked. She turned to him and gave him a thumbs up, to which he did not react to.

He barely trusted this to go smoothly. But Niijima was right that they shouldn’t waste more time, and Ohya had made her choice. He hated to leave this in the hands of someone else, but it was pointless to probe more for now.

He could always convince Ohya in the car, if he had to. If his hunch got too strong, he was sure she’d take his word for it. His control was limited, but he’d use what he had. Leaning into whatever plan Niijima might have could grant him more elbow room as well.

He’d let this go. He nodded to Ohya, turned on his heel, and slipped back into the car.

He saw Niijima’s eyebrows arch high through the window. She probably thought he couldn’t hear them, because she turned to Ohya looking a little amused.

“I didn’t think he’d be so obedient.”

*****

Ohya and Goro were on the road, following Niijima’s car. Ohya got the address and phone number, and Goro double checked with a GPS to ensure it was an apartment building they were being lead to.

Goro immediately asked Ohya to briefly explain how her initial talk with Niijima went. She told him in simple terms: she asked for an interview and was denied. She asked her again to try and whittle her way into conversation, and ended up explaining she was doing a piece on Goro and wanted Niijima’s statement.

What stood out to Goro was that Niijima had told her that she “had no intention of depleting his name.” It was a unique statement, and probably a positive one. He was curious if she had been a part of the case against Masayoshi Shido, and if she had pointed any fingers in Goro’s direction. Ohya told him she wasn’t sure.

They went over what happened in the garage too, and about Goro’s unease in going to Niijima’s apartment. It was a very short conversation since Goro had overheard most of it. Though, Ohya mentioned that she’d mostly trusted Niijima from the start, even before their talk. In that way, it made sense Goro was feeling more unsure than she was.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise you can put your faith in me, okay?”

Goro had been doing almost nothing but putting his faith in her. He supposed the difference was now he had a _choice_ in doing so, but in reality it was nothing more than a pseudo decision. What else would they try if they were going to make progress? Risks were inevitable, making his answer obvious.

It made him wonder whether or not he _would_ place his faith in her, if truly given the option.

Niijima didn’t live far from her workplace. They drove for about ten minutes before she pulled into a complex, Ohya trailing close behind. It was a tall building, gray and ordinary. He idly hoped this wouldn’t be a hastily put together trap.

Ohya parked them into a visitor spot and got out of the car. Goro stayed inside, as he was supposed to, but was tempted to head out anyway. _Obedient_ had not been a term he was pleased to hear.

Niijima emerged from her car and she talked to Ohya for a moment. Goro couldn’t hear them this time. It wasn’t long before Ohya waved him out, making an obvious motion for him to keep his sunglasses on.

The three of them entered the building and headed straight to the elevator. Goro kept his head low and walked quickly. It seemed like a regular old building, maybe one on the higher class end. That made sense; she was an attorney who lived presumably alone. No discrepancies yet.

What felt like the moment of truth to Goro was entering Niijima's individual apartment. He didn’t necessarily feel like something might jump out at him, but it was a closed off and private space. There were pros and cons. There was the fear that they could end up recorded, or even trapped. That Niijima could just be an exceptional actress, and something was going to end sour. 

But this was also where he might find some real information about himself. He told himself to stay on edge, though he was beginning to melt into excitement. Like dipping his toes into a pool.

There was something that felt wrong about the idea, too. He couldn’t put his finger on what. Obviously he wanted to know more about himself, didn’t he? Excitement was correct, wasn’t it?

It must've been. 

The door was unlocked, and they were inside. Niijima rushed them in a bit, saying she wasn’t sure if her neighbors were home or not.

It was averagely sized, as far as Goro knew. Maybe a tight fit if she wasn’t living here alone. Niijima took off her shoes and went over to her dining table, leaving Goro and Ohya to do the same. They joined her sitting down, taking their seats across from her, and Goro slid the sunglasses back onto his forehead. Nerves prickled up Goro’s neck seeing four chairs at the table. He _hoped_ he was right that she lived alone.

Niijima leaned forward. Not a moment could be wasted with this woman. “I need you to tell me everything you remember.”

Goro took a deep breath. 

He explained, though really there wasn’t much to say.

He told her he woke up in a hospital, about his diagnosis, about his unknown bullet wound. How he’d met Ohya outside and she’d decided to help him (to which Sae gave Ohya a very brief suspicious look), and that they had come across information about the storage unit.

Niijima stopped him there. “A self-storage unit?”

“Yes, one in my name,” he explained, clearing his throat. “There were a few items in there but— It’s how we located you, in actuality. The paperwork listed you as the responsible party.”

She blinked a few times. There was something that wasn’t clicking. “But it was in _your_ name?”

He nodded, and Ohya shrugged. Niijima's confusion wasn't encouraging. Goro was getting nervous she may not have as many answers as they'd hoped. 

“What was inside?” she asked.

The air felt stiff. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation, in a weirdly familiar sort of way. He tried to make himself look just a bit bigger.

“There were a few items. Though most notably some files about a case that I worked.”

Niijima (possibly purely out of habit) straightened herself up, too. Goro was well aware he’d lose in an intimidation factor, but he refused to be walked upon. Ohya meanwhile seemed like she wanted nothing to do with their interaction.

After a moment, Niijima rested a hand under her chin. “If it’s the one I’m thinking of, yes, that _is_ my unit. Obviously I’m still paying for it,” she began, and narrowed her eyes down at the table. “However, I had that unit ordered under the request of someone else. I placed the files, but that’s all. Anything else you found wasn’t me.” She looked back up at the pair. “And, I don’t know why he put it in your name. I wasn’t aware.”

Goro pressed his lips together. There was another person. Which meant his letter's weren't for Niijima, as he suspected. She probably hadn’t even read them; he didn’t realize he’d been dreading the thought until now.

“So who’s this guy, then? Why’d he want the unit?” asked Ohya. 

“He’s an acquaintance of mine. Akechi-kun, you and him were… It’s hard to say, exactly. But he cared about you a lot.”

It shouldn’t have been surprising to hear _cared,_ as in the past tense. Used to care, no longer cares, may or may not care in the future. Goro was publicly dead—no amount of caring would carry over to his corpse. He couldn’t say that he cared for anyone in particular right now, either. He needed to get used to hearing himself in preterite.

He thought on “ _it’s hard to say_.” So now he had a friend, _in a way,_ and an “ _it’s hard to say,”_ who he’d tried to pour his heart out to dozens of times. His chest clenched when he tried to think about what sort of person that made him.

Niijima carried on. “He told me one evening that he wanted to preserve ‘parts’ of your memory. He was probably worried you and your belongings would get scrutinized under the public eye. I don’t know what he put in there, but it was probably something either important to him or you,” she explained. “He wanted to make sure they’d stay preserved somewhere private. In that case, though, I still don’t know why he wrote it in your name.”

Goro tried to take that in. All of that sentiment, and she said it was _hard to say_ what their relationship was? He wasn’t doubting her wording, just curious what on earth this guy must’ve been like. She was right that it was strange. If his reasoning was to keep what was private safe, there was absolutely no reason to have it in any other name than his own, or even Niijima’s. In fact he’d completely failed on that font, considering Ohya found the unit years ago but chose not to look into it.

Goro couldn’t help but think there was a different reason. Exactly what, he didn’t know. He didn’t have enough information about this boy to get a grasp on something as specific as motives. He wondered if he'd ever known him enough for that.

“Could we contact this guy?” Ohya asked. She’d leaned back in her chair during the silence and crossed her legs. Goro idly thought to himself that she would be the type to get comfortable in someone else's house.

Something conflicted flashed across Niijima’s face. “We could, though I’m not sure I should be the one to do it.”

That was curious. “What do you mean by that?”

She shook her head. “It’s probably not what you think. I’d just like a second opinion.” She placed her arm down. “Rather, there’s someone else who I think I’d like to discuss this with. It isn’t that I don’t think you should see him.”

“A second opinion?” Was he a conflicting enough topic for that?

Considering his relationship with this boy was _hard to define_ , he might not have been too off the mark.

Niijima nodded. “I have a younger sister. She’s good friends with him, and she knew you as well. I trust she’d have a good idea of how to handle this for him.”

Ah, she had a sister. He supposed it made sense that she also knew Goro. At least _she_ probably didn’t know about the letters, but it left a bad taste in his mouth thinking about another roadblock.

“And, she’d be safe to meet with?”

“Yes,” Niijima replied. “I don’t think you two were friends, exactly, but she wouldn’t do anything drastic. I’m assuming you want this to move along quickly, so I could give her a call and have her over by tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Now it was _friends_ _in a way_ , _hard to say_ , and _not friends exactly._ He wouldn’t say his reputation seemed disappointing, but there was something low festering deep inside of him. He wouldn’t think about it.

“I think that’d be great,” Ohya said. She looked satisfied with the outcome. He couldn’t relate, but was sure Ohya was just glad that Goro would be out of her hands soon.

Goro would go along with it. It was the progression that he had to follow. He doubted he’d be able to get the boy's name out of Niijima, and it wouldn’t be safe to go hunting for him regardless. This route would be, while more tumultuous than he’d prefer, his most secure bet.

“Where are you two staying right now?” asked Niijima. It felt a little out of the blue, but Goro realized the sun was going down. Not to mention, he didn’t know the answer to that anyways.

Ohya leaned onto her knees. “Well, we were in a motel a ways out up until now,” she said. “Not exactly sure where we’re gonna dive tonight, though.”

That didn’t impress Niijima, it seemed. She frowned. “Staying in a motel in the city is too dangerous. There’s more surveillance here than in the outskirts.” She paused for a moment and looked between them. 

“I have a spare room. That might be the best option for him.”

Ohya’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah? My apartment’s pretty close to here, so I could crash there and let Akechi-kun take the room.” She turned to face Goro. “Unless you’d rather me stay, kid. I’ve been known to couch surf a bit, too.”

If Goro were to actually and properly access the situation he was in, he truthfully had no reason to trust Niijima any more (nor less) than Ohya. The way this was going, he _was_ going to spend the night in this apartment unless Niijima had a hidden dark side she was about to reveal. Ohya’s presence would make little to no difference. They were both unfamiliar women who he knew next to nothing about, and whose generosity he was betting on being genuine.

“I’ll be fine with Niijima-san,” he decided. Ohya’s only benefit would be a getaway car, assuming things even got to that point. Niijima had plenty of times where she could’ve apprehended the both of them by now. Goro was sure he could take a trip down the fire escape if things got too out of hand, anyways.

His answer didn’t seem to convince Ohya, which was surprising considering she was the one who offered to leave. “Well— I’ll keep my phone on in case something happens. And I’ll come back around bright and early tomorrow.”

Niijima glanced at Goro. “Do you have a phone?”

“No,” he answered. He certainly wouldn’t mind one.

Niijima hummed lowly, and the topic dropped. Goro wouldn’t get his hopes up.

“Are we all well and good, then? Cause there’s some stuff I wanna do tonight, actually,” said Ohya.

“For now,” Niijima replied. It made Ohya smirk.

“Whatever works.”

Ohya got out of her seat and stretched out her back. “I’ll go grab your stuff from my car, and then I’ll head out. Capeesh?”

Goro nodded again, and with that she excused herself from the table, and out the room she walked. He was alone with Niijima now, and his mind was racing. Now that he was here, and he had the chance, all his thoughts grabbed him at once.

_Who are you to me? How did we meet? What was I like?_

He wondered if she’d be the best one to ask. Should he wait for the boy to give him his answers? Or, what about her younger sister? Was getting _opinions_ on himself the best way to regain his sense of being? Would it be more the merrier, get as many as possible and choose what seemed right?

But what if he chose wrong?

He stayed quiet. This wouldn’t get him anywhere. He’d give it more thought. He wanted to know about himself, but he wanted to understand through no one else’s interpretation than his own. Nothing had given him an _“aha”_ moment so far. Would he really get one by discovering something more intimate? Something felt wrong about the idea.

Niijima filled the silence.

“You know,” she began, lacing her fingers together. “You don’t need to be so formal with me. You called me by my first name before. It’s almost strange hearing otherwise now.”

"Oh." Evidently, he didn’t know. Learning _that_ didn’t feel wrong. Maybe it was because it told him less about himself, and more about his relationship with her. He was still hesitant to probe for more information.

She smiled very gently at him. Something almost sisterly. It was funny: her intimidation didn’t make him draw in on himself, but a sweet gesture like this did.

“You look exhausted, Akechi-kun.”

He _felt_ exhausted. Another day of having done almost nothing physically, but feeling totally drained nonetheless. His strength was taking what felt like years to come back to him. He’d only been up for two weeks, but he felt that should’ve been more than enough time to get up and going. It wasn’t like he’d been eating poorly, either. There was no reason for this.

There was a knock at the door. Niijima went to answer it, with or without Goro’s response. Maybe she wasn’t looking for one.

It was, as expected, Ohya. She held his plastic bag with his change of clothes. She came in quickly and tossed it onto the table.

“I’ve gotcha all covered here,” she said, smiling. She plucked her sunglasses off of Goro’s head and grinned wider. “I’ll be back in the morning, like I said. Call me if you need me.”

Goro looked up at her. She didn’t have her usual confident air. She might’ve been nervous keeping him here all alone. Goro wondered why she cared (present tense) so much.

“Alright."

She held eye contact for just a moment more, before sighing quickly and turning around. She nodded at Sae and gave a polite wave.

“See you two soon, then.” 

She left. Niijima locked the door behind her (which Goro noted, but did not panic about) and walked back to the table. She stood near Goro, arms crossed and looking down at him.

“Why don’t I show you your room,” she offered.

Goro collected his things and followed Niijima down the hallway. He saw three rooms, all shut tight. Niijima stopped at one furthest from the entrance and opened the door.

Inside was a decently sized bedroom, though it was pretty barren altogether. It was like someone had scraped up all the decorations and hidden them away, leaving it with the bare minimum of what might be a “bedroom” (that being: a bed, premeditated by it being inside of a room).

“This was my sister’s room before,” she explained, walking further in. “She moved out years ago, so I’ve been using it as a guest. Though I can’t say I get visitors often.”

Something about it being her sister's old room made him frown, but he didn’t linger on it. He placed his bag down on the floor next to the bed and sat down on the mattress.

“I appreciate you letting me stay,” he said, because he did.

She grinned softly at him. “It’s odd having you actually do the things I suggest.”

His frown deepened. It made her chuckle. She sat down on the bed, a fair distance away from him.

They sat in a quiet for a long time. It was awkward, but in the way that Goro had no way of making any less uncomfortable. He lacked the foreknowledge, and she seemed like she wanted to say something.

After a moment, she did. “This doesn’t feel like something that should be real,” she began, looking down at her hands. “You were not the face I was expecting to see today.”

Goro didn’t know what to reply, so he didn’t say anything. This may be a situation he’d need to grow accustomed to, if he was going to be meeting with others that recognized him.

“I’m not going to burden you with all of my thoughts right now, because I’d consider myself above venting to a clueless amnesiac before I get a grip on this situation in my head,” Niijima continued. Goro was glad she didn’t, truthfully. There was nothing he could do right now, and she was little more than a stranger to him as he was.

Niijima inhaled deeply. “But there is something I’d like to tell you before you go to bed.”

Goro turned to her. She softened her gaze and smiled again.

“I truly am glad you’re alive. I want you to remember that, Akechi-kun.”

He gulped. She’d said it so authentically. He nodded slowly, not sure what to make of the statement.

She seemed satisfied with that. She stood up and straightened her shirt. “You also talk less than you used to. I wonder if it’s the nerves?”

Goro scoffed. “I’d like to think I have quite a good reason for tensity, Niijima-san.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, looking incredibly at ease. “You really are more than welcome to use ‘Sae,’” she said, and made her way out. She stood in the doorway for a moment, and glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Sleep well, Akechi-kun,” she said.

Goro felt like he was being poked fun at. Differently than how it came from Ohya, this felt _known_. Almost friendly. He wanted to say it felt familiar, but it was more like he could tell _she_ thought it was a familiar exchange.

There was something itching in the back of his throat. Like she knew more than she was letting on, which was undeniably true. But it made him think that there was something much larger than he’d expected surrounding him. He still was thinking on why she was getting a _second opinion_. Who was this mystery boy, who she’d curiously never mentioned by name? For a moment, he thought that something more might’ve been creeping up behind him.

But that was probably wishful (...wishful?) thinking.

“Goodnight,” he began.

_Ah._

“Goodnight, Sae-san.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!! bc of irl things, my frequency of updates will probably vary for the next short while. nothing too drastic, but jsyk!!

Goro woke to what sounded like an argument. There were no raised voices, just stern tones and unfinished sentences.

For a moment, he lay in bed confused. There was a sinking feeling in his belly before he fully processed the morning. He was in Sae Niijima’s house— right. The argument was probably one that belonged to her.

He rubbed his eyes and pulled off his covers. Thinking to himself he’d must’ve always been a bit nosy, he crept close to the door to try and listen in.

He could only make out one voice, that being Niijima (ah, though now he remembered she said to call her Sae). The way she paused had Goro thinking she might’ve been on the phone.

“I need you to trust me,” Goro heard Sae begin. “We’re all suspicious, but there's only so many options we can take right now.”

Goro assumed she was referring to him. Clearly that wasn’t assured, but he might as well get an idea and then prove himself right or wrong later. The assumption would also pin the person on the other end of the line as, most likely, Sae’s younger sister. Maybe she wasn’t keen on meeting him.

After a pause, Sae spoke again. Goro could hear her pacing in the other room.

“If he has some sort of plan, then we will unfurl it somehow. And if we can get him to a proper doctor then maybe we can assure ourselves.”

Now he felt almost positive they were talking about him. He wasn’t upset Sae felt unsure about him— Goro himself had spent the night half convinced he’d wake up with a shiny knife in his back.

The next bit was too muffled for Goro to understand. He pressed his ear to the door and tried to listen harder. It was silent as Sae waited for a response.

“When are you off?” she asked, and after a moment went on. “Alright. See you soon.”

She exhaled deeply, leaving Goro to guess the call had ended. He brought about some tension, which grew more obvious each day, but he’d expected as much. He'd have to keep on his toes for today. 

Goro hadn’t expected to hear another person in the apartment. “Your little sister again, huh?”

He quickly put the voice to Ohya. Goro shouldn’t have been surprised; she _had_ told him that she’d come around early today. He wondered what time it was, especially since it seemed like he’d missed the initial call Sae had taken.

“We weren’t able to finish talking earlier. She had some questions,” she said.

Goro tried to adjust himself a bit better. It was probably useless, but he squished his face further up against the door. The thought that he was naturally curious came to him again, if his career in sleuthing was anything to go by.

He heard Ohya sniff. “Yeah, I bet. This doesn’t exactly seem like something you just take sitting down.” She paused for a moment. “I take it she’s coming over, though?”

“Yes. She’ll be around in a couple hours.”

The silence made Goro tense a bit. He almost moved away, but he heard Sae continue in a quieter voice. “We should wake him up, shouldn’t we?”

Ohya hummed. “I usually just let him sleep but… I mean, I’d rather not just spring this on him right after he wakes up.”

Goro knew what that meant. He was up in an instant and threw himself back into bed. He didn’t think he needed to pretend to be asleep, but getting his head smacked on a door would add _injury_ to _insult_.

He sat in bed, going so far as to throw a blanket over his legs, when there was a knock.

“Hey, kid? You up?” asked what sounded like Ohya. He may have been a bit presumptuous to assume she was just going to wander in without knocking.

“Come in,” he called, and the door opened with hardly a creak. Ohya stood wearing her typical easy expression, shoulders lax and her hand still on the doorknob.

She took a moment to glance around the room. “You sleep okay?”

Goro nodded. He’d slept like a rock. It’d been that way every night— he didn’t even dream, or at least not that he could remember. Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t recall what dreaming had been like.

He assumed it wasn’t that, though.

Ohya jerked her head to the side. “You awake enough to come talk?”

Goro responded by pulling off his covers and beginning to stand up. Ohya seemed satisfied with that and started walking back down the hallway.

“We’re just in the living room, okay?”

Off the bed, he stretched his arms over his head and rolled his shoulders a couple times. He shut the door behind him, following to where Ohya had gone.

They were in the same room as last night, just a different area. Sae was sitting on the edge of her curved leather couch, Ohya leaning on the wall across from her. Goro nodded to them both as a greeting, then took a seat on the other end of the sofa.

“There’s a breakfast sandwich in there if you like,” Ohya said, and directed Goro’s attention to the table in front of him. There was a brown paper bag sitting on top.

He couldn’t say he had much of an appetite, but he knew he needed to eat. Especially if he was going to stay awake for the remainder of the day. He reached inside, grabbed his breakfast (maybe lunch, seeing the sun high outside a window), and fiddled with the packaging.

Sae waited for him to unwrap his food before she started talking.

“I got in touch with my sister. She’ll be here in a couple of hours,” she began, Goro biting down on the stale sandwich. “She has a lot of questions for you, as you might expect. Just answer the best you can.”

Goro frowned as he chewed. He didn’t like the sound of that. She worded it like it would be some sort of test. The conversation he’d overheard earlier hadn’t been encouraging, either.

“I’m gonna be honest: she seems a little bit intense,” Ohya commented, to which Sae sighed.

“She can get a bit… involved. She’s rational and level headed, but she can have an intimidating air about her sometimes.”

Ohya snorted, crossing one leg over the other. “You say that like you don’t have the same kind of vibe.”

The remark made Sae smile. “I suppose you could say we’re alike.”

If they were similar, he wondered how well this afternoon would flow. Sae’s sister didn’t seem to have an upstanding opinion of him. Goro needed to make some sort of impression on her, one that would overturn her obvious bias. If he didn’t, this dilemma could get drawn out far longer than necessary.

He was getting irritated just thinking about it. Whittling their conversation into something tolerable might prove difficult.

Goro must’ve been making a face, because Ohya made a comment. “Don’t think too hard about it, kid. It’s not like she’ll eat ya alive.” She walked over to his chair and sat down on the armrest. Goro leaned away, but it didn’t deter Ohya from getting comfortable.

It wasn’t like he was nervous. It was just a bother.

For a while, it was quiet. Sae moved to her dining table with a laptop, probably doing some at-home work. Ohya left the armrest and took the empty seat, now typing away on her phone. They were both completely zoned into their work, leaving Goro to nibble on his breakfast sandwich like an unimpressed child.

Ohya frowned when Goro wrapped up his unfinished meal and placed it back in the bag. He didn’t make anything of it, only relaxing himself further into the cushions.

He couldn’t help that if he took one more bite he thought he might vomit. It wasn’t the food itself, just his own rotten stomach. It made him feel like every bit of sandwich was dead weight, as if it didn’t know what to do with the food. Perhaps this was an after-effect of his coma.

Really, he wouldn’t know. Goro hadn’t stayed around in the hospital long enough to get any sort of rundown of his condition (not that he suspected they’d have given him much meaningful information).

Sae had mentioned on her phone call about getting Goro to a “ _proper doctor._ ” It was surely to confirm his condition officially, but there were other reasons he needed to get in contact with one. He doubted a patient just out of comatose should be as up and around as he was. Some professional advice would be nice, rather than Ohya’s occasional well meaning suggestions.

Almost like she’d heard that, Ohya glanced up from her phone at him. She barely peeked around her shoulder to look back at Sae, then turned and mouthed, “ _you okay?”_

Goro was a bit taken aback. He nodded at her slowly, and she seemed pretty content with the answer. Her phone buzzed and her focus shifted immediately, leaving Goro feeling like he was in an odd spot.

He must’ve looked particularly pathetic this afternoon. He didn’t need such careful attention, and this was a woman who barely knew him—he’d hardly done a thing to deserve an air of concern.

He fiddled with his fingers, picking out any gunk that had gathered under his nails. He was hopelessly bored. Staying meticulous was his best attempt at self-made entertainment. It wasn’t like he could sit there and daydream with his two week life experience. He tried to keep his mind focused, even on the mundane, before his thoughts could delve into something darker.

He’d learned his lesson surrounding that. He could easily fall into a cozy despair, tucking him in tightly and kissing him on the forehead. Distracting himself into a depression had an hours long consequence—it wouldn’t quite fit into his schedule today.

After what Goro assumed was an hour at most, there was a knock at the door. It made Ohya jump and look up from her phone.

“That was fast,” she said, sounding a little exasperated.

Sae was already getting out of her chair. “She told me she might get off early today.”

Goro pressed his lips together. He could tell himself not to get nervous all he wanted; his body would still react. Clammy hands and an increasing heartbeat. It was anxiety inducing to meet people that knew him. Especially now, meeting someone he apparently didn’t get along with. While, on the one hand, it could absolutely prove to be an entertaining little spectacle, fucking this up wasn’t an option. It might be just a few questions, but he couldn’t help but feel there was already an imbalance of power.

Sae unlocked the door and pulled it open. Goro couldn’t tell what her sister looked like from where he was. He waited patiently on his chair, straightening himself up and even adjusting a stray lock of hair. Ohya fixed herself similarly.

Sae guided her in, and Goro was hardly given a moment. Immediately, he could feel a pair of intense eyes on him, as he was faced with a girl about his age, staring him down like he’d just kicked her dog.

The air of the room turned stale. He squared his shoulders and glared back at her, every part of him saying that if there was a time to hold his ground, it was now. He couldn’t tell if she looked tired, or pissed, or disillusioned. At the very least, she wasn’t smiling.

“You know who Akechi-kun is, but this is Ichiko Ohya, the journalist I mentioned,” Sae introduced, ignoring the atmosphere that had fallen onto the room. “And, you two, this is Makoto. Like I said, she’s my younger sister.”

Makoto Niijima. The name didn’t ring a bell. Though, the look on her face told Goro that she certainly _did_ know him. Not in a way of sweet reminiscence— something of bothered disbelief.

Niijima cleared her throat, and swiftly broke eye contact. She walked further into the room and then turned to face Ohya and Sae, back entirely to Goro.

The gesture made Goro grit his teeth. Alright, what was she playing at?

“He’s been awake for two weeks?” Niijima asked, as if that wasn’t a question Goro could answer himself.

Ohya got visibly edgy, raising her shoulders a bit. “Uh, yep. Week in the hospital, week out here.”

“As far as you know,” Niijima pressed. Goro gripped the side of his armrest. Hardly a minute in, and already she was accusing him of lying? At least she got right to the point. Her blatant animosity was the kind he could return on a silver platter.

“Apparently, the two of them found the storage unit Kurusu and I put together,” explained Sae, not phased by Niijima’s attitude. “They found me through the paperwork.”

Niijima looked down at Ohya, suspicion in her tone. “How did they find that, exactly?”

Sae answered. “Kurusu put it in Akechi-kun’s name.”

Goro saw Niijima’s hand just hardly twitch. She was quiet for a moment.

“Oh.”

_Kurusu._ That was a new name. Llikely the one he was looking for, in fact, if he’d been the one who ordered the unit with Sae. His destination was getting decidedly close now— enough that he felt a little less annoyed at the conversation happening like he wasn’t in the room.

“I’ve also got a few contacts,” Ohya elaborated, now showing herself up a bit. “Nothing shady. It’s how we got this far, after all.”

Niijima considered that. Goro also considered that, since he was sure there must’ve been something mischievous in Ohya’s repertoire of connections. Though, admittedly, not something she should share in a room of legal droids.

Niijima inhaled deeply and swallowed around the air. She spoke almost hushed.

“Are you _really_ sure he has amnesia?”

_Ah, alright._

“You know, I believe that I’d be the expert on my own condition,” he said, holding back an annoyed scoff. “But do feel free to continue speaking like I’ve gone completely brain dead.”

Niijima paused, then turned to face him. He held his back tall, locking his jaw and looking up at her. There was something admirable about stubbornness, but unlike her, this conversations path could result in the first nail in his coffin. He’d like to have a say, at least, in where he’d be buried.

She looked sour. “You’ll have to forgive me for not trusting you.”

The sentiment went both ways. He wasn’t going to try and understand her position, not while he was in the lowest stance he could imagine himself to be. He didn’t need trust, but some civility would be nice.

Sae looked between them. She tapped her nails on the table and sighed. “I know how you feel, Makoto. But I’m not sure how much of a choice we have right now.”

Goro didn't let that comment escape him. He filed it neatly into the back of his mind— more evidence that picking his allies carefully was his only option. Sae didn’t trust him, and it was becoming clear that he had _never_ been someone outright credible. In that sense, he probably never trusted easy either.

With another glance at Goro and a fixing of her jacket, Niijima released tension from her shoulders.

“It’s hard to imagine you dropping your pride as low as pretending to be an amnesiac, I’ll admit. But I’ve put trust in you before, and you’ve betrayed that, and so you’ll have to humor me.”

That wasn’t surprising. He had to have done something to warrant her behavior towards him. He wondered what sort of betrayal (and such a strong word, _betrayal)_ he could’ve spurred.

But even if he deserved it, but he’d rather be annoyed than accepting.

“So, we’ll attribute your little ignoring game to a force of habit, then? Bold of you to come to my aid at all, with that in mind,” Goro snapped back. 

Ohya huffed at him. “Are you really picking a fight right now, kid? The attitude’s cute, but pick a time and place.”

“I’d hardly call that picking a fight. You would surely know if I was,” he smiled sweetly.

“At least he acts the same, doesn’t he?” Sae cut in, sitting back down at the dining table. “Though I wonder if that’s really a point in his direction.”

She surely meant that to mean it was more likely he was pretending. Which was true, but overall Goro thought of it as a positive. At least he didn’t need to have the weight of an identity crisis be heightened with defining a personality. Of course, the underlying fear of assuring his sense of self through other perspectives was present, but he ought to choose his battles.

Niijima sat down near Sae, crossing her legs at the ankles. She wasn’t quite closing herself off to the entire room this time, but it was clear who she was talking to.

“You must have some sort of plan in mind,” she said.

Sae took a moment to set her laptop lid down, leaning an elbow onto the table.

“It’s hardly a plan. I just know that you and your friends knew him best. I thought you would have the best jurisdiction on where to move forward from here.”

_Friends_ meant more than one. So, as far as Goro was concerned, more than the mystery of just Kurusu. How many people had he betrayed? A pulse-rising question, he realized. Who out of them might be willing to help, who might turn him in to the police? He should expect a gamble.

Niijima stayed quiet for a while. She was thinking to herself, looking particularly bothered. Goro realized that this conflict he often brought was something he looked forward to. 

She adjusted in her chair and frowned. “I… really can’t keep this a secret from everyone. Whether or not it may do more harm than good for some of us, I think it would be worse to stay quiet.”

“I agree,” Sae affirmed. While Goro didn't think negatively of the idea, he did wonder why his opinion wasn’t going into the decision. Had he lost decision making rights in his state of forgetfulness? Or, was he not trusted enough in the past to be giving such authority? In that case, perhaps it would make more sense to get those rights back _now_ , when he presumably couldn’t cause any harm.

But he let them continue.

Niijima hummed lowly to herself. “I don’t think I could get everyone together today. Really, getting everyone together _at all_ would be difficult. But I don’t think this is the kind of situation I should text.”

Sae rubbed at her wrist. “Sorry to leave this to you,” like entrusting an obnoxious secret.

“It’s fine. Complicated subjects typically require several minds put together.”

A _complicated subject._ A fantastic description, really.

Niijima directed her attention at Goro. He raised his eyebrows. Now she was going to be upfront with him?

“Explain to me what’s happened so far, please. With as much detail as you can.”

_Amusing,_ he thought. And as he did with Sae last night, he explained. Ohya chimed in occasionally to expand on any details Goro skimmed over. It didn’t take long for Niijima to frown thoughtfully and fold her arms into herself.

He watched as she seemed to go over her options in her head. If she suggested anything unsatisfying, Goro would fight back. Whether she was apathetic or not, he would stay firm to his ideal outcome. Making headway was the only choice he had.

She exhaled deeply. “I’m going to need some time to think. It’s also not my sole responsibility—I shouldn’t be the only one with an influence in the decision.”

Sae nodded like she’d expected the answer. “That’s understandable. Just let me know what you decide.”

And that was that. Niijima excused herself from the table and went to leave. She glanced at Goro for a long second before opening the door and exiting the apartment.

There was silence, for a moment. Ohya broke it.

“So, that... was awkward.”

Sae shook her head sympathetically. “Unfortunately, Akechi-kun, your topic stirs up some negative feelings. I’m not sure we can expect much better from the group, either.”

“I’ll anticipate a bleak response,” Goro replied. Hostility was natural, then. A warm welcome wasn’t worth hoping for.

Ohya made a disapproving noise but didn’t comment. She looked a bit restless now, standing up and shaking out her hands.

“I gotta make a call. I’m gonna head into the other room,” she said.

Goro wondered what that was about. She walked into the guest room and shut the door. It could easily be something work related, but his intuition told him that she was calling for his sake.

He let it be. Surely there was nothing said that would’ve sparked something malicious in her. There was a chance she’d explain herself, anyway.

A negative reaction was to be expected. With whatever he must’ve done, of course that would be the case. _Kurusu_ was certainly included in the claim. The oddest sort of twisting wrapped itself around his stomach, thinking that he could be hated by someone he cared for. But, at the same time, right now he _didn’t_ care about this person. He was just another step to ensuring his life would stop teetering on a tightrope.

It was easy to detach himself from the sentiment. Perhaps his curiosity would be satisfied just by meeting him.

He wouldn’t admit that it was disappointing. Disappointment was another way of saying that it would affect him, and had been affecting him thus far. Getting any hopes up at all for his letters’ recipient had been a mistake, despite how low he’d kept them.

_Some negative feelings_. Surely, it was something he could understand, a sentiment he could relate to. Could it be classified as self loathing if his _“self”_ wasn’t him to begin with?

“Akechi-kun,” Sae said, calling him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her, a very bland expression on her face.

“There may be more to go over than you expect. Make sure you’re prepared for that.”

Of course, and he meant that genuinely. Some sort of curveball would certainly cross his path, because he couldn’t anticipate all the possibilities in his current state. He lacked experience, plain and simple. An open mind might be the wrong term for him, but he’d absorb everything he could, despite the mass.

The door down the hall opened, and soon after Ohya came back into the room. She looked content, stuffing her phone in her back pocket. She smiled at Goro.

“So, kid, I might be able to hook you up with some better clothes,” she said, sounding excited. “I know a gal. She’s been doing some kinda clothing-drive and I might be able to get you some stuff from that. Prolly won’t be designer, but no more Seiyu sweats.”

Goro blinked. “Oh.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Yes, more clothes would be nice, but this was out of the blue. Had that been her phone call? It was an off shift in atmosphere.

“I know you’re excited, you don’t have to tell me.” Ohya put her hands on her hips. She grinned at him and leaned forward a little.

Expanding his wardrobe couldn’t be bad. “I appreciate it,” he said.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed. “You better. And you wanna look nice for your old sorta-buddies, don’t you?”

Odd of her to ask. To look nice for them?

He wanted to say the idea didn’t sit well with him, but as he thought, it was like the opposite. Looking presentable felt _natural_. Looking nice for himself was one thing, but now the thought of how he’d be perceived was on his mind.

Did he care what they thought of him? He didn’t have much control over it. The best he could do was give himself wiggle room while already inside their bubble of opinions.

He didn’t know these people. He did once, but not presently. So why would they matter now? He was sure they weren't on any sort of good terms, he’d betrayed them, and not one of them might be happy he was back. These were the people who’d allegedly known him _best_.

So why was this leaving him feeling conflicted? 

Ohya had told him on the day they met that Goro had been someone who _kept himself looking clean_. Who had that been for?

He was taking too long to answer. Ohya’s smile was fading downwards.

“I’m not sure I care either way,” he lied.

***

It’d been a while.

When Akira walked into Leblanc with Morgana in his bag, the first thing Sojiro had told him was to grab an apron. Akira took it a step further and walked to the sink, turning on hot water and washing a soaking pot. Morgana planted himself naturally on the far end of the counter, his tail hanging off the side. Two years since he’d been here, and he’d fallen right into routine.

Home.

One of many, nowadays, but still home. There was a familiar comfort here that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Like walking into open arms, trusted ones that would hug and hug and keep him warm for ages. He loved it here.

Sojiro had just barely started to make conversation when Futaba burst through the front door and launched herself at Akira. Futaba was one of the thieves who he’d kept in contact with the best (excluding Morgana, who he was basically attached at the hip with), but it was still heartwarming to see her in person again. She sat down at the counter with her head in Morgana's fur and demanded a plate of curry, Sojiro using this as an excuse to put Akira’s skills to the test, see if he’d been practicing.

He had been, of course. Who was he without his signature dish?

Akira had come by at the request of Makoto, surprisingly. She’d sent a text in their old group chat three days ago saying she had urgent business to discuss with them. Leblanc had always been their typical meet-up location, so they kept up with tradition.

Not everyone could come. On such short notice, it felt like a miracle they were getting anyone at all. The only ones arriving today would be the three already here, obviously Makoto, and Yusuke. Everyone else would be getting a phone call after the meeting.

Whatever they were going to talk about, she definitely meant business. Makoto was busy and usually relied solely on texts and calls to get information around. It had been a long time since Akira last saw her in person.

“Whatcha think Makoto wants to talk about?” Futaba asked him. He shrugged.

The next to come in was Yusuke. Akira had actually seen him the _most_ recently, since his apartment was right around Yusuke’s college. He’d go to his art shows, and sometimes they’d grab lunch together.

Futaba ran at him just as dramatically as she’d ran to Akira, and his grunt at being tackled was as theatrical as expected.

“I see there is no lack of energy in you,” he groaned.

They were seated, and Akira’s curry was served. Futaba grinned largely between bites.

“It’s still not nearly as tasty as Sojiro’s,” she commented. “But you’re getting super duper good, too.”

Sojiro smiled, hand resting on his hip. “Well, thanks. But I think this spin he’s got on it is pretty nice.”

Akira stuffed his hands into his pockets and raised his shoulders. He’d been working on his own little version of the recipe. Lots of trial and error, and a lot of Morgana threatening to barf all over him if he ate another bite, but something good had come out of his practice. It was nice to see it appreciated by a master.

“Did you not make me a variation that was just the slightest bit sour a while before? I did like the contrast,” Yusuke asked, his plate about cleared already.

Akira knew his eating habits had gotten better, but he still whisked away food like it was going to be taken from him. “I don’t have the ingredients here for that one,” he replied. “I’d have to hit up the grocery store.”

Sojiro hummed thoughtfully. “You wanna make your variant? I’d like to try it out.”

“That one was gross, though,” Morgana said, sticking out his tongue.

“You just don’t like sour foods.” Akira scratched the top of Morgana’s head. “Depends if what I’m looking for is in the store, but sure.”

Futaba gulped her food loudly. “Are we gonna go shopping? ‘Cause I want to get snacks reaaally bad.”

Yusuke nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure you’ll have time before Makoto arrives. And I would not oppose indulging in your cooking once more.”

Akira shrugged again, and they settled it. He took off his apron and walked back out into Yongen-Jaya, Morgana back in his bag and Futaba trailing behind him.

It was a nice walk. Seeing the backstreets again was a feeling he’d like to get used to. He felt good today—like he was snug in a distant memory bank.

The grocery store had a different layout than he remembered. It was fun exploring around and seeing what things were where now. He picked out his ingredients (Futaba giving a few of them weird looks) and grabbed a little can of tuna for Morgana before he realized they’d been out a bit longer than expected. They rushed around paying, but still strolled casually back to the café.

When they re-entered, Makoto had already arrived. Futaba gasped loudly, and Akira waved.

She smiled. “I see you’re back from your shopping trip.”

Futaba slumped her grocery bags onto a table and gave Makoto a hug. She looked a little hesitant going in at first, but Makoto kindly wrapped her arms around her and eased the tension.

Makoto was surely the one they’d all seen the least, which was saying something when it came to their infrequent get-togethers. Even Ann overseas would give them video calls every once in a while. It was unfortunately natural that people fell out of friendships, but it was easy to fall back into them, too.

Akira set his groceries up behind the counter, letting Sojiro raise his eyebrows at his picks, and got to work. Makoto was chatting casually with the rest of the group, so he assumed she wasn’t about to bring up their main topic.

He used frozen stored curry of Sojiro’s for this batch, just adding in his ingredients as he stirred to save a little time. It wouldn’t quite blend together the same, but it would still be a pretty decent end result.

“You ought to come by when you’ve got a day to really show me what you’ve got,” Sojiro said.

He served it with a smile, and everyone dug in. Yusuke looked very satisfied, savoring each bite as he went, and the pleasant surprise on everyone's faces was endearing. Cooking for his friends was one of his favorite memories, and he’d still do it now for family and new friends alike.

Akira made a plate for himself, opened Morgana’s tuna, and sat himself down into one of the booths. They all talked playfully, getting the one-two on how everyone had been, what they’d been doing, congratulating when necessary and soothing on cue.

Maybe a little stale, but nice nonetheless.

Futaba joined Akira on the other end of the booth once she’d finished her food. She’d been talking while tapping away on her phone before she froze for a second and turned to Makoto.

“I kinda completely forgot, but what was it you wanted to talk about? I’m liking our whole shindig thingy right now, but you needed something, didn’t you?”

Morgana popped his head up. “Yeah, that’s right! Akira and I were pretty surprised when you messaged everyone,” he added on. “We thought it was probably something important.”

Makoto’s expression fell. She looked down at her hands. “It’s… I’ve just been waiting for a good time, I suppose. It’s certainly a mood changer.”

“I believe we’ve all enjoyed seeing each other again,” Yusuke began, turning in his seat to look at Makoto better. “But I do think, if it is of importance, we should discuss it soon.”

She frowned. “I’m not really trying to dodge the subject, it’s just hard to put, honestly.”

She looked at everyone, but sent a particularly pained glance at Akira. He raised an eyebrow. Was it something involving him a little more specifically? He leaned down onto one propped up hand and listened well.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Makoto. Whatever it is, we’re gonna take it fine,” Morgana said, reassurance in his tone. It just made Makoto frown deeper, though.

“I’d like to be just out with it, but it’s not really something that I should just... say. But at the same time, I wouldn’t know how to explain it first, because it’s hardly a situation I understand the in’s and out’s of.” Makoto adjusted in her chair. She wasn’t one to get anxious, but this was probably the most nervous he’d seen her in a long time.

“If it’s better to just say it, you should,” Akira said.

She looked at him again, wearing that upset expression. She clenched her fists in her lap, then took a long, deep breath.

“Alright. Please let me explain myself before you interrupt, though.”

Futaba snorted. “‘Cause you _know_ we’re gonna interrupt?”

Makoto smiled weakly back at her. Akira hoped she hadn’t gotten herself involved in something dangerous. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but this was unusual for her.

It was the first _unusual_ part of his day, honestly. Even the mismatched grocer had felt comforting. Like things had fallen just into place, correct and settled. What was Makoto about to bring to the table that was out of line?

A long moment passed. Then another. She closed her eyes, like she was weighing her options, then opened them again. She still didn’t look sure of herself.

It was like a now-or-never.

“My sister found Akechi-kun,” she said. “He’s alive.”

The café fell into a silence.

Akira stared.

If he’d heard that five years ago, he would’ve jumped out of his seat immediately. He wouldn’t have waited a second for an explanation; they’d have needed to catch him while he was running down the street. He’d be on the train bouncing his leg with the same anxiety that banged in his brain, telling him that if he didn’t get there soon maybe he’d _run away_ , maybe he’d _die again._

Akira would’ve wanted to be right by his side, right then, questions later.

_Five years is a long time,_ he thought.

“I went and saw him,” Makoto continued. “My sister called me over so we could talk about what to do, but… There’s a problem.”

Akira had spent ages waiting, and grieving, and accepting. Moving on, finding other people, living a life outside of the havoc that was the Phantom Thieves. Akira had come down from his highs and lived through what he thought he might not. And he’d done that by himself, hadn’t he?

“A problem?” Yusuke asked, the question just barely registering in Akira’s mind. Makoto seemed hesitant to elaborate.

Grieving for Akechi had hurt once, but having him dangled in front of his face and then ripped away all too quickly had stung deeply, buzzing under his skin without dying down. Damaged him like facing a moving goddamn car head on—but now he was more alright than not. It’d been five years. He had healed, he had moved on, he had kept Akechi in a little piece of his mind dedicated to just thinking again and again of how _the one that got away_ was an understatement and he missed him and that trying to file him away in a compartment was hardly a way of coping but that didn’t matter because he was _gone anyway_ and—

“Akira, wait, please sit down,” Makoto said, suddenly standing in his way.

Akira hadn’t even realized he’d stood up. He inhaled sharply, his mind coming down to match his surroundings. He’d been heading towards the door like some kind of drone, while closed off feelings began to flush back.

Five years wasn’t enough, he guessed.

“You said he’s with your sister?”

She held her chin up. “I need you to let me finish. This is important.”

Makoto was completely unmoving. She didn’t give in as much as she used to, which was good no doubt, but it definitely made Akira pause. Her expression really bothered him, and to his credit he barely realized he’d gotten up in the first place.

“Kid,” Sojiro said, and Akira bit the inside of his cheek. He sat down at one of the barstools, still right up close to the door.

“I’m sorry. I know he was… precious, to you,” Makoto thumbed at her palm, keeping her head high. “But you’re really going to want to hear this before we see him.”

Morgana trotted over to Akira on the counter and sat down by him. He pushed himself against Akira’s back, trying to comfort him some.

“So what is it, then?” he asked, tail flicking behind him.

Nothing about Makoto was encouraging. From her face to her body language, it was like she was going to tell them about a death sentence. In the back of his mind, Akira thought that when it came to Akechi, that could’ve been an option.

Now Makoto knitted her fingers together, and broke eye contact to look down at them. It was obviously news she didn’t want to share.

“It’s…” she tried. She took one more moment to compose herself.

“He has amnesia. He has very, very serious amnesia. From what I understand, he didn’t even remember his own name,” she admitted.

Akira took a moment to register that. As did everyone else, apparently, because the room sat in another stunned silence.

_Amnesia?_

Futaba spoke up this time. “He… forgot his name? You’re saying there’s nothing there _at all_?”

“They haven’t been able to get any proper medical diagnosis from a doctor, but,” Makoto began, leaning her back onto the side of the counter. “From what it looks like, he has no memory of any parts of his past life. He didn’t seem to remember me at all.”

Morgana squirmed like he was uncomfortable beside Akira. “Erm… This is just because you said he didn’t have an official diagnosis, but… We’re sure he’s not pretending?” he asked, flicking his eyes at Akira just once.

“I’m a bit suspicious as well. But after seeing him, it’s hard to come up with any evidence that he’s outright lying. And, beyond that…” Makoto trailed off. She looked at Akira with uncertainty. He tried to stare back as clear as day. This wasn’t the time to sugar coat anything.

She went on.

“...On his forehead he had a scar. It looked like a bullet wound. If anything might induce severe head trauma to the point of amnesia, it would be that.”

_A bullet wound._

After a moment, Futaba hummed low like she was bothered. “I guess there was a shot when he… you guys know.”

Processing this wasn’t coming easy. Akira’s head was still full of the very idea that Akechi had been alive this entire time, and now there was amnesia trying to wedge its way around his brain. It was hard to take in.

If Akechi had amnesia, locating him in the first place was some sort of miracle. It didn’t answer where he’d been until now, or what he had been doing, or how he survived a _shot to the head_ , but Akira would take what he could get. He tried to wrestle his mind down and cool off, because there was still a big question they had to answer.

“This does pose a problem,” Yusuke began, leaning far down onto the counter. “Are you proposing we help him, then? I would not color myself opposed, though I cannot speak for anyone but myself.”

Makoto furrowed her eyebrows. “That’s what I think we need to talk about. None of us are exactly obliged to helping him. I want to get your opinions on if we _should_ , and what to do whether we choose to or not.”

“I’m going to help him,” Akira said firmly. There was no doubt that he’d go to him. He had almost been on his way there once already. No debates to be had.

Morgana stretched his paws out in front of him, and stifled a yawn. “I mean, I don’t feel like we can really just leave him. Definitely wouldn’t sit well with me if we ignored it.”

“I also don’t think we should leave this alone,” Makoto nodded along. “Futaba, there’s no pressure for you to help too. You can let us deal with him.”

Futaba held her knees up close to her chest. She squeezed tightly. “No I—well. I want to help him too,” she muttered, wrapping her fingers around her ankles. “I think,” she added.

Sojiro looked at her for a long time. Akira didn’t make a comment.

Makoto rubbed her hands together. “Then, if we all agree… Well, I guess not all of us.” She frowned.

Yusuke piped in. “I don’t believe I’d call this a matter of the Phantom Thieves, so majority rule shouldn’t be necessary.”

Akira was glad Yusuke was on the same page. They were all Phantom Thieves, but this wasn’t relevant to that. It was personal. It was helping an old friend. The whole group deserved to know, but whether they wanted to give him support would be up to the person.

Makoto nodded. “That’s true. I’ll let you all know if anyone else wants to be involved once I make all the calls.”

“So then…” Futaba started, speaking just a little louder now. “Just for now, what should we do? Find a super chill doctor or something to check him out?”

Yusuke looked at Akira for a long moment, then turned to Futaba. “Perhaps this is something that should be discussed in Akechi-kun’s presence. Since it pertains to him, after all.”

Akira wondered if Yusuke noticed how antsy he’d been getting. Yusuke, because he’d lived so close, had gotten the grunt of Akira’s most terrible years—right behind the poor cat that lived with him. Yusuke knew he was anxious to see him.

Akira just wanted to _see_ him.

“Let’s go now,” Akira stated plainly and stood up again. He wasn’t met with any disapproval. Morgana even hopped back to Akira’s table and wiggled himself into the bag.

Everyone collected their things in silence. Akira knew everyone had their baggage with Akechi. He had his fair share as well—and it seemed like Akechi had gotten a taste of his own medicine if that scar were to tell any stories.

But it’d have to wait. Akira was going to walk in and face a boy (he’d probably be closer to a through-and-through man by now, but there was no image for that kind of Akechi in his mind) who he _knew_ , but didn’t _know_ , but _did_ know, but didn’t know _him_.

Complicated, he guessed.

They made their way out of the café. Sojiro coughed as they stepped out, stopping Akira in his tracks to turn back and look at him.

He stood leaning against the counter with a newspaper in his hand, not facing the group and acting like he was speaking to no one in particular.

“Lemme know if there’s something you need me for,” he said.

Akira inhaled.

And nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Goro flicked through the Masayoshi Shido Phantom Thieves victim file once more.

It’d been a few days since he’d started staying in Sae’s apartment. Ohya had brought up his cardboard box of distant days, and Sae had helped him go through the cases with a bit more clarity.

As he’d suspected, yes, the Phantom Thieves case had been one with a dubious reputation in the police department. It’d been a puppet show of cops and robbers with an ambiguous definition of “allies.” The height of public news for the better part of a year, all surrounded by lies and misinformation. According to Sae, the head marionettist had been Masayoshi Shido.

He was a scumbag. Not worth the grime that would collect under Goro’s shoes. Not even all of his crimes were detailed under his victim file, as told by Sae. Goro read deeply into the facts, gritting his teeth as again and again he wondered what unearthly force had persuaded him into working with such a pig.

He’d get some semblance of an answer soon enough. Sae had informed him today was the day Niijima had set up to assemble her little group of acquaintances, so they could discuss just what to do about Goro. A righteous conclusion would be to take him to a doctor. If he could scrape by with even a guise of a treatment, perhaps some memories would wash in.

By now, the solid conclusion had arrived that Goro would keep himself far away from outsiders opinions on who he used to be. He’d kept it well in mind up until now, but outright saying that to Sae and Ohya had offered some closure on the subject.

“That’s pretty reasonable,” Ohya had said with a shrug. Sae offered only a slow nod.

No use crying over spilt milk. Some people, if not most, had pretty much despised him. But maybe he’d wanted it that way. The rage his name brought wouldn’t answer any questions, just spitfire and bruises.

He tossed the file onto the table, sick of the lazily penned details of Shido’s confession. It was too pathetic to read. Which unpaid intern had been assigned to this job, he wondered.

He started to fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve. One of the new ( _new_ being an ambivalent term— where Ohya had presented them as new to _him,_ while Goro knew that “clothing drive” meant “hand-me-down”) shirts Ohya had received from yet another contact. A soft Gingham button down, which Goro had found laughable that he’d remembered some obscure name for a fabric pattern, but not his individual number. Perhaps this had been his mind conforming to some tax-evasion scheme, rather than after effects blunt force trauma.

The clothes came in varieties and in different sizes. Ohya had told him she couldn’t grab too much, and she couldn’t be picky either, so she just took what seemed like it would fit. She’d also assured him they’d been through the wash.

Sae’s phone buzzed. Goro wouldn't usually give that much attention, but he saw her eyes go big upon reading the message, and he colored himself intrigued.

“Something catch you off your guard?”

Sae glanced up at him and perched an eyebrow. “You know, I’d recommend you actually hear what's going on before you end up speaking for yourself.”

Ohya coughed out a laugh, while Goro kept his neutral expression, tilting his head in anticipation.

“It’s genuine news,” Sae began, between typing out a hasty reply to her mystery recipient. “Makoto has just told me she and her friends are on their way here.”

Goro blinked widely. They were coming over? _Now?_

Ohya raised from her seat. “Man, that fast? I thought they’d be deliberating for a while, or something.”

Sae put her phone down. “I thought so too. They’re going to be here in about twenty minutes,” she said.

“You ready for that, kid?”

Goro answered confidently, straightening himself up. “Of course.”

He meant that. It was certainly a surprise that they were coming around so quickly, but he’d been prepared for a meeting for the last few days. Niijima had taken all the anxieties with her; now he was cold and ready for whatever they threw at him.

He could anticipate worse reactions than openly ignoring him for a good chunk of conversation, but now he’d be much more ready for them.

There were things that he wanted to fight for. If he could, he wanted a doctor. He wanted a discussion on a more concrete living situation. He wanted to have freedom and privacy; he would not be satisfied with constant surveillance. There was also the matter of giving him a reliable means of communication.

Most importantly were his memories. But he felt as much was a given—if they were going to help him at all, they would obviously be actively pursuing his memory loss. It was hard to imagine that they’d keep his memories from him for his own good.

There was of course, the scenario where they’d walk in and refuse to offer any aid. In which case, he’d resign himself to the fact that there would probably be a gang of cops wandering around outside the apartment, or that he’d gain full creative justice on how to fuck up his remaining time on earth.

He wouldn’t know until they got here. Ohya joined him at the table, sitting next to him and giving his back a pat with her hand. The trio’s typical silence sat in the air.

It wasn’t long until the doorbell buzzed. Sae stood to answer and Goro got up as well, collecting himself and ensuring he’d be in the central conversation this time.

When the door opened, Goro could peek past Sae’s shoulders and see the small crowd at the door. At the forefront was Niijima, who looked much more nervous than a few days ago, and a few others around the entrance.

Just next to her though, was a boy with glasses. He was staring wide-eyed at Sae as she welcomed the group in, with a rattling intensity about him. Goro gulped when Glasses turned his head and held eye contact with him, and for a moment, it was all very still.

Glasses moved suddenly, storming into the apartment in a beeline straight for Goro. His vehemence only seemed to grow with each step. Goro’s muscles tensed immediately, like a deer in headlights, thinking surely: _I am about to be punched into next fucking Wednesday._

“G… _Whoa— Kurusu-kun?!”_ Ohya said, from somewhere.

But the impact didn’t hit where he’d anticipated. It wrapped around his chest and his waist in a grip, and for a horrifying moment he thought he was being tackled. But as they both stood their grounds, it was equally as horrifying to realize this was a hug. Goro’s arms were out in the air, unsure where to go, but with certainty not easing down to return the embrace. It grew tighter, and Goro felt himself actually gasp for breath and stiffen.

Glasses noticed. He released him in seconds.

“Shit,” he said, taking away the first bit of warmth Goro had experienced in quite a while. “...Sorry.”

He didn’t know what to reply, so he didn’t. He stared at him awkwardly, still reeling from the fact that his soul was sound in his body and he wasn't sporting a fearsome black eye.

“My…” said a voice from behind Glasses. It belonged to, assumedly, the very tall man giving Goro an inquisitive look. What must’ve been everyone had stepped into the apartment now, as the door was shut tightly and shoes were being peeled off. The last unknown visitor was a very short girl, with bright orange hair and glasses. She stood fiddling with her fingers, glancing between Glasses and Goro.

Niijima stepped further into the apartment. “Why don’t we… sit down,” she offered, tilting her head towards the couch. Glasses didn’t move, though the others did; he kept frozen in place until Ohya popped up next to him.

“Kurusu-kun, holy mother, I didn’t think it was _you,”_ she said. She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, squinting her eyes. “Niijima-san mentioned a Kurusu but I never would’ve guessed in a million years you were the one who knew this guy!” She nudged Goro in the stomach with her elbow. It lightened the air generally, the uncomfortable tension relaxing, but it was hardly something to focus on. Goro now had a name to a face, and a very critical one at that.

 _This_ was _Kurusu_?

Kurusu blinked at Ohya a few times, like he was only now registering that he knew her. Which, Goro thought, was teetering on the edge of too coincidental. She’d known just the person he was looking for since the very start. He wasn’t doubting her, per se, but it itched.

“Akira,” said the tall man, who was remarkably taking up very little space on the couch. “Sit. So that we may begin.”

To Goro’s surprise, he heard a small _meow_ come from the bag slung over Kurusu’s shoulder. Kurusu rubbed the back of his neck and nodded, seemingly to himself, and with another short glance at Goro, went and shrugged into a seat in the middle of the sofa, just where the corner curved. A small black cat popped out of his bag and snuggled onto his lap.

Niijima was sitting on one end, the tall man on the other, and the short girl sat on the ottoman, legs pulled up tightly against her chest. Ohya took a chair from the dining table and set it in the living room space, tapping it twice and gesturing to Goro that he should sit there.

He sat with his back tall, not feeling much at ease. Several pairs of eyes were on him, scrutinizing his every move. It was quiet, for a while. Ohya leaned on the table, while Sae had her arms folded and surveyed the room.

The tall man shifted in his seat. “If your… situation is as described, I believe introductions may be in order?”

“...Yes, please,” Goro said, and saw when Kurusu’s eyes shot up upon his speaking.

No one spoke first. If anything, this encounter was much more _uncomfortable_ than Goro had expected. There had been a mood hanging in the air from the get-go.

“Okay, well, I guess I could start for you guys,” Ohya said, pushing herself up from the table. She stood behind Goro’s chair and rested a hand on the backrest. “I’m Ichiko Ohya, a journalist. I found Akechi-kun all stranded and alone outside a hospital, and I brought him here and I’ve been helping take care of him. I also know Kurusu-kun. I didn’t expect he’d be here, but just to let ya know. Guess if that might make me more trustworthy to you guys, that’d be good too.”

She was grinning, and she looked to the group on the couch. The tall man cleared his throat.

“I shall go next, then. My name is Yusuke Kitagawa,” he began, which earned a light ‘ _hm,’_ from Ohya. “I knew you, Akechi-kun. I’m glad to see you well.”

Goro nodded slowly. Kitagawa, then? He turned to the girl on the ottoman, who made a grumbling noise before speaking up.

“I’m Futaba Sakura. Hi. This is super duper weird,” she said.

Yusuke Kitagawa, Futaba Sakura, and Makoto Niijima. None of the names were familiar, which he expected. They’d been certainly less hostile than he’d prepared himself for—though it might come out as they talked.

Finally, all eyes went to Kurusu. He hardly had an expression on his face, maybe a light frown shining through his blankness. Goro waited, until he scratched his cheek and introduced himself.

“Akira Kurusu. I, uh… we were friends,” he said. His voice was much lower than what Goro would’ve assumed. He tried to keep his expression going sour upon hearing _friends_ , but probably failed as Kurusu’s face did a hint of a cringe. It was hard to tell what was going through his head.

“That’s Morgana, by the way,” Sakura said, referencing the cat on Kurusu’s lap. He thought it was odd to bring a pet along to something like this. Perhaps he was something of a therapy cat?

Niijima looked around the room, like she was waiting to see if anyone else would speak up. “There’s a lot we need to talk about.” She looked up to her sister. “Um… is there any way we could get him alone?”

Ohya hummed loudly, and Sae looked between the group. She seemed like she knew something.

“I could step into the other room,” she replied.

Ohya seemed a little more reluctant. But with Sae’s beginning to exit the room, she took her hand off the back of his chair with a light shove and folded her arms. “Holler if you need me,” she said, very obviously to Goro. She gave a stern look to Kurusu, who’s expression had fallen back into neutral gear. He just stared back.

Once the door to the other room had firmly shut, Niijima took the lead on the conversation. “I explained to everyone on the way here what you told me a few days ago, Akechi-kun, so don’t worry about telling your story again. And if it isn’t clear we… would like to offer you some support.”

Goro readjusted a bit in his chair. “Well, thank you for coming all this way and not telling me you planned to report me,” he replied. He tastefully did not admit that he’d thought about the scenario.

“We can offer you some answers,” Kitagawa said. “If you are looking for those.”

Goro shook his head. “There are some things I would like to define on my own.” Kitagawa nodded thoughtfully, like he’d expected the answer. The cat meowed.

“Yeah, there is that,” Kurusu said, almost like he was bouncing off of the cat rather than his own statement. “If there’s anything you _want_ to hear from us, though...”

Goro considered that. “Like what?”

“Well,” Niijima started, brushing off her shirt. “I’m sure you’re curious about your… scar. I’m fairly sure we know how you got that—or rather, who gave it to you.”

“Do you?”

“It’s a doozy, though,” Sakura said quietly. The cat meowed again, a few times in succession, even.

“Perhaps we could give a vague descriptor?” Kitagawa suggested, putting a hand to his chin. They truly seemed to be considering this. Their genuinity was unexpected, from what he’d assumed previously.

Goro’s frown must’ve led Niijima to think he was thinking… something else.

“Oh, um, about Morgana, I’m sure it’s weird, but I promise that’s normal, alright? We’ll explain properly later.”

He stared at her. And then he looked at the cat, who looked very proud of himself. Had he done something he didn’t notice? Or was it his very presence that was… of note?

“Okay?” Somehow the room was satisfied with the answer.

Sakura wiggled her toes off of the edge of her seat. “It’s kinda hard to like, shorten it.” Goro wondered how complicated being shot in the head could get.

Kurusu was looking down at his arms, folded neatly into himself. He glanced up through the frames of his glasses.

“You had those case files in the storage unit, didn’t you? Niijima-san told me she’d put those in there,” he asked. In a short state of panic, it came rushing back to Goro that yes, this boy helped with the unit, meaning _he’d_ been the one who’d put the letters in there; that he had certainly read every last page. Goro's silence spurred Kurusu on. “Did you find the case on a guy named Masayoshi Shido?”

Ah, of course. That name came up once again. How much of his life revolved around this man?

“I did.”

The cat meowed. Everyone looked very solemnly (except Goro, who looked very normally) at it.

“Well, I mean not _exactly_ exactly. You could argue that he did and didn’t pull the trigger, technically, but. It was him,” Sakura said.

“Ah,” Goro weakly gasped, trying to wrap his mind around _that._ So he’d been murdered (Goro was willing to constitute it as a murder, since thus far his self who’d been shot hadn’t returned to the front lines in any sense of the term) by that man, atop of whatever else involvement they’d had. There was part of him that suspected this, what with Ohya’s initial explanation, but getting the confirmation was another feeling entirely.

What on earth had Goro been _doing?_

The cat meowed again, and then it meowed a lot, and Kitagawa shook his head. “It may be best to leave it at that. The full understanding of _why_ may be something too complicated for our discussion. Since, of course, we have significantly more urgent things to discuss.”

Goro narrowed his eyes. Somehow, it seemed like he’d said that to the cat. It meowed again.

“That’s a good point,” said Niijima, “Though we probably can’t know for sure until we take him to a doctor.”

For a moment, Goro’s mind flip flopped. Had he just missed something? He was struggling to find the correlation. But the conversation went on, leaving Goro not much choice but to disregard it.

“Akira, don’t you know the doctor lady in Yongen Jaya? Do you think she’d be willing to take a look at him?” Sakura asked, and Kurusu shrugged and nodded, which didn’t actually bring much of a solid answer. At least the doctor topic was something he didn’t need to bring up on his own.

“Let’s plan on that, and if it doesn’t go through, we will find someone else,” Niijima said. He observed that they all seemed to put a lot of trust in Kurusu. Goro thought to himself that he wasn’t sure he’d do the same, right now.

The cat meowed again, and this time he was given a group of thoughtful gazes. “That’s a good point,” Kitagawa praised, and then turned to Goro. “How has that been faring you, Akechi-kun?”

Goro stared at Kitagawa for a long moment.

“Excuse me?”

The cat meowed again, and then they all looked at Goro expectantly, as if that cleared anything up.

“How has _what_ been ‘faring me?’” he asked.

“The… the coma stuff,” Sakura clarified. “I mean, right? You were in a coma and we all didn’t just completely mishear, right?”

Well, she was correct, but he failed to see how he could’ve interpreted as much from Kitagawa’s question.

“I was." He wasn’t sure how he could describe his current condition. What felt normal and abnormal wasn’t quite clear to him. “I’ve been doing the best I can without any medical care.”

He was given understanding hums, except from Kurusu, who had been delivering a potent glare for the last bit of conversation.

“Yes?” Goro asked, because if he had something to say he’d ought to just say it.

Kurusu barely let up his gaze. He took a moment to exhale, and he started to bounce his leg a bit.

“You… _can_ hear Morgana, can’t you?”

The cat meowed, and Goro looked at it.

“Um. Yes?” he said unconfidently. What was Kurusu getting at?

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy him. “No like—can you hear him _talk?”_

Goro was sure his confusion was showing on his face.

“You mean, as in his… meowing?” Like, that thing that all cats do? What was the point in this?

But again, everyone else seemed to be clued-in on something Goro had entirely missed. Expressions dropped, and the cat meowed pretty frantically at him.

“That… doesn’t make sense,” Sakura started, and Goro found himself agreeing that _no, it doesn’t make sense, because nothing that you’ve said has anything to do with anything else._ “It’s a subconscious recognition. I don’t think it’d go away with something like amnesia. Because, like, just because he doesn’t have access to the memories, doesn’t mean they don’t still affect him.” She put her legs down and gripped her hands on the edge of her seat, leaning forward. “It’s why people with amnesia pretty much don’t lose skills and stuff like that.”

“Could it be that Morgana is a special case?” Niijima asked, to which the cat meowed very intelligently, and Niijima actually replied, “I see…”

Kitagawa leaned forward onto his knees. “Might that mean it would be the amnesia that Akechi-kun has which is the rarity?”

He absolutely said that to the cat. They were absolutely talking directly to the _cat._

“Are you fucking with me?”

Everyone turned to him. A kind of guilt fell onto their faces while he waited for whatever nonsensical explanation they planned to offer him.

“Um,” Niijima tried, “No we—We’re not. I’m sorry, we should’ve probably anticipated—”

“Morgana’s like, fully sentient,” Sakura interjected, earning her a stern look from Niijima. She adamantly ignored it. “And some people can hear him talk, and some can’t, and you’re supposed to be one of the people who _can_.”

She seemed a little nervous while Niijima continued to look at her. “Okay, but like, you obviously weren’t gonna give him an answer he liked.”

Goro could feel blood flushing to his face. Ah, a _sentient fucking cat?_

“Is this really the time to mess around? You do realize what is at stake, don’t you?”

“No, she’s telling the truth, he really is,” Kurusu said a little desperately. “We, uh—Here, I can prove it to you.”

Kurusu picked the cat up and placed him on the ground. It stretched out its paws and looked up at Kurusu, as if waiting for directions.

“Ask him to do something,” Kurusu said.

Goro looked to Kurusu, and then looked to the cat. For a long moment, he stared. He was half-convinced this was an elaborate joke, some sort of prank in an attempt to humiliate him.

Kurusu gestured for him to go on.

“...Jump on the table,” he ordered, feeling foolish.

The cat did. He stood proudly on top of the table, with a glint in his eye. Goro wasn’t convinced with only that. He could easily be trained, but he’d be lying if a little feeling in his stomach wasn’t beginning to bubble up.

“Jump… on Sakura-san’s lap,” he continued. A slightly more specific command, but even when the cat leapt onto Sakura and she started petting him in praise, he wouldn’t consider that enough.

“Morgana,” Kurusu said, gaining all the attention in the room. “Go into the kitchen and turn on the coffee maker.”

The cat meowed to Kurusu stubbornly; for a moment Goro thought that their little stunt had come to an end. But he jumped off of Sakura’s lap and trotted over to the dining table. He hopped onto a chair, and then the table, and then the counter, and then started wandering the marble tops. He stopped in front of the coffee machine, gave it a looking-at, and then pressed a button with his nose, prompting the machine to whir and beep, ready to work.

The cat meowed proudly. Kurusu smirked. “He wants to know if that’s good enough for you.”

Goro didn’t know how to process what he was looking at. Until now, everything had been straightforward—amnesia, bullet wound, hitmen after his life—but now he was being asked to register _this_ abnormality?

What was he supposed to say? The cat was flicking his tail contently, having taken a seat next to his finished work.

“I can make him do more, if you really want—”

“That’s… enough,” Goro interrupted. Kurusu held the same haughty expression as the cat. It was irritating.

“It’s a cognitive thing,” Sakura said as Morgana leapt down from his perch and took his place in Kurusu’s lap. “It’s not really worth explaining right at this very second, but he’s a special little guy. And _because_ it’s a cognitive thing, it’s super weird that you can’t hear him.”

Niijima elaborated. “We were discussing how it’s more likely that because he’s a special case you’d be _able_ to hear him, rather than the opposite. You probably missed some other things, but… that’s the most relevant.”

Morgana meowed. Goro looked to the group for a translation (which still felt silly, but if they were taking this seriously, then he’d might as well).

“He says that he believes there may be an atypical component to your condition,” Kitagawa provided.

Goro thought on that. “As in—there’s a chance that this is a front of sorts to something deeper?”

“Or that there’s something else additionally, too,” Sakura said. “Cause we can _probably_ say that your amnesia is from that fancy bullet wound you got there.”

“Though, that isn’t entirely sure," added Niijima.

“What else would it be, though? I mean, I guess we don’t know for _sure_ for sure unless we get him to a doctor.”

The group sat in a thinking silence. Goro knew he wouldn’t be much help, but he tried to think back on anything that might be useful.

“Wait.” Kurusu looked up to the room, all eyes routing to him. “What about that berserk skill he had?”

Sakura hummed. “Like the psychotic breakdowns? You’re super right that amnesia was a pretty common symptom of those, but he didn’t have—” she stopped herself.

“That time, he… Did use the skill on himself,” said Kitagawa in a solemn tone.

Goro knew if he didn’t ask, they wouldn’t answer.

“What is a _psychotic breakdown?”_

Sakura tapped her fingers against the ottoman. “Its, uhh… it’s sorta like a condition where it… basically something happens to someone inside their cognition and it makes them lash out and do crazy stuff. Kinda. Well, that’s the jist of it.”

“And rather than casting the skill on a _shadow_ ,” Niijima began, clearly not in response to Goro. “That was on _himself_. The severity might be different.”

Morgana meowed, and it brought a mood to the room. Kurusu clarified.

“He said if that _is_ the cause, finding a cure might become much more difficult than we think.”

Goro leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. He shut his eyes for a moment. He knew it’d be hard, but this was an entirely different ballgame. Is this what Sae had meant by “more to go over” than he’d expected?

He opened his eyes, and refaced the crowd. “What are the chances this... _is_ a result of a psychotic breakdown?” 

Sakura made a grumbling noise. “Well, the Morgana talking thing doesn’t exactly give kudos to the pretty-dang-normal-amnesia idea,” she sighed. “But we should probably get some other people to look at you. And, I mean, I’d like to take a look at my research notes, too. See if there’s a good way of determining just what's happening in that crazy brain of yours.”

“I’ll make sure to talk to Takemi-san,” Kurusu said, to which Futaba nodded.

“How do we plan to get him there in the first place? And in fact, when might this take place?” Kitagawa asked. “I am not sure when so many of our individual schedules will adhere to this situation again.”

Niijima agreed. “I don’t think I’ll be very available for a little while.” She frowned, and glanced down the hallway. “And my sister… It was a surprise to me to find out she’d been working from home for this. I doubt she can keep that up much longer.”

Goro folded his arms. This easily fell into the fact that he needed more independence than he had. He shouldn’t _have_ to wait for several people to get themselves in line before he could see a goddamn doctor.

“Why don’t we let Niijima-san and Ohya-san back in the room,” Kurusu suggested. He was met with nods, and Goro didn’t oppose it. He was beyond understanding why they’d asked for some privacy initially— Morgana’s… _showing_ was probably something of secret. Their discussion was falling into much more general information, now.

Niijima went to gather them. She came back mid-explanation of the situation.

“It’s sorta a hard question,” Ohya mused, taking her previous place of leaning back on the dining table. “Cause there’s the whole if the doctors safe thing, and then there's the when and how we can get him there safely thing, not to mention revisits.”

Sae stood near the hallway entrance. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. I’m busy even now. I can’t keep this up, if I want to be with a job.”

“Perhaps changing Akechi-kun’s general locale would be beneficial,” Kitagawa suggested.

Sakura wiggled her fingers again. “Like, sticking him somewhere else? It might be good to get him somewhere a bit less outta the way, that’s true.”

“I’m not sure changing where he’s living is gonna do much good, in the long run,” Ohya said with a sigh. “Unless it's like, right near the doctor or something. Cause it’ll be the same ultimately. And, sorry kid, I can’t get you a personal apartment.” She grumbled, and looked down at her shoes, “Which honestly, is shit, because you’re a grown-ass man.”

That statement lightened Goro’s mood. Despite the problems they were having, it _was_ good to hear someone else was thinking about his privacy. He hadn’t expected it.

Sakura was frowning deeply. She looked a little awkward. She pressed her cheek into her shoulder.

“I mean… there’s Leblanc.”

Eyes lit up, and Morgana meowed enthusiastically.

“Leblanc?”

Kurusu elaborated, maybe with some gusto. “It’s a café. It’s, literally, down the street from the doctors,” he said, looking involved. “I stayed in the attic there for a year while I was in high school. You’d get the whole space to yourself.”

_A café?_

That didn’t sound... horrible.

“Is it safe?” Ohya asked.

“I hid from cops in there for like, several months, so I’d say so,” Kurusu replied, making Goro raise his eyebrows while both Ohya and Sakura snorted.

“That could be a very good idea.” Niijima nodded along to Kurusu.

“I’ll see if Sojiro’s okay with it,” Futaba chimed, and pulled out her phone with incredible speed.

Kurusu smiled a little, the first one Goro’d seen from him. “He’s the one who owns the café.”

“He’s also my dad,” Futaba continued with a grin, typing out a message with an increasingly fast pace.

Ohya got up from the table. “Whoa, wait,” she said, and walked over to Goro. “You good with this?”

Goro looked up at her. He was beginning to think part of her actually did care about what happened to him.

“Yes,” he replied, feeling a little relieved. “I’d have said so if I wasn’t.”

She nodded at him and, to his surprise, so did Kurusu.

“He’s working now, so he probably won’t see it for a bit, sooo…” Sakura tucked her phone away.

“It may be best to discuss it in person with him, anyway,” commented Kitagawa. “Though, Akechi-kun, it should be noted that we can offer no guarantees.”

“Of course.”

“But I’m totally sure I can get an answer by tonight.” Sakura shimmied in her seat, her energy certainly having gone up since the beginning of the visit. An answer by _tonight_ would be a boon. Getting things going quickly was a good sign. Sakura seemed to be competent.

“Do ya have a phone?” she asked.

Ohya walked up to her. “I’ll give you my number. Don’t send me any weird links, though,” she said with a laugh.

They exchanged numbers while Sakura snickered, and were only interrupted by Sae’s clearing of her throat.

“I don’t mean to ask you to wrap this up so soon, but I need to be awake early tomorrow. Can the rest be done over text?”

Sakura gave a pointed salute. Ohya laughed again.

It’d been quick, but this encounter had been incredibly meaningful. It’d also gone smoother than expected. The roadblocks hadn’t been roadblocks but more so… bumps. The desire to help him was evident, and maybe a little strange.

Though, he hadn’t expected a sentient cat. He’d need to think more on that sometime soon.

Kurusu was looking strongly at him again. Shoulders down, brows furrowed. Almost a pout, if not for his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t say anything, so Goro let him stare.

They were probably going to need a talk later.

The group started collecting themselves, Ohya exchanging numbers with Kitagawa and Niijima (it was still odd that she already had Kurusu’s) before they readied up to go.

Kitagawa shook his hand. Sakura looked at him for a moment and said, “ _Just you wait, buster._ ” Niijima spoke with her sister and Kurusu kept quiet, looking at Goro from afar. He met his gaze once, until Morgana hopped out of Kurusu’s bag and nudged him. With a couple meows, his attention was elsewhere, and Goro sat idly in his seat waiting for whatever else might be thrown his way.

Before everyone began to file out, Kurusu finally approached Goro and jerked his head over to the kitchen. They wandered in, hardly away from anyone else, and Morgana popped back up onto Kurusu’s shoulder. He meowed.

“He wanted to talk to you real fast,” Kurusu explained. “He forgot to bring it up before we had Niijima-san and Ohya-san come back in.”

“...Right.”

Goro was hesitant. This was still weird. He didn’t believe it 100%, even with the evidence they’d provided.

The cat meowed, and Kurusu elaborated. “It’s about how to deal with your memories,” he paused, and let Morgana meow a few times. “He’s worried about what might happen if something gets triggered. He doesn’t know how it’ll affect your cognition if something’s forced, since it was casted on, uh… One specific thing rather than a different specific thing.”

Morgana mewed something angry, and Kurusu mumbled. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t know what those are, so it’s not like it matters.” He got another angry meow from that, and Kurusu just shook his head.

“Basically, he thinks it might be best to keep you away from really big sensory memories. He’s worried that letting something open up might retrigger another breakdown. And that would be… bad. At the least.”

Goro felt himself swallow. “By which, you mean I shouldn’t go chasing after my memories?”

Kurusu rubbed the back of his neck. “Well not, like, not at all. But he thinks it would be best if there was some… professional monitoring when you do try to remember things.”

“I… see.” He supposed that wasn’t much different than what he’d already been doing. Though even while he _tried_ to remember, he hadn’t had much of a reaction, so he wondered if this would really yield any results.

Morgana meowed once more.

“He says he thinks it’s the safest way to go before we can get you a proper diagnosis.” And after a moment: “...Sorry. I’m sure you’re pretty antsy about remembering.”

“I absolutely am.” He couldn’t deny that. Kurusu and Morgana gave him matching expressions, something a little sorry. “But I’ve been firm that I want to remember myself _through_ _myself_ exclusively. As long as we’re headed towards the goal of my eventual remembrance, I’ll humor a request like that.”

He hardly had a choice, anyway. If they decided they wouldn’t tell him anything, then that was that.

Kurusu nodded, and Morgana snuggled back into the bag. For a moment, they stood there silently, one waiting for the other to make a move. Kurusu looked like he wanted to say something.

“Akira, we shouldn’t keep my sister long,” Niijima called from the other room.

They both tensed. Then, with a frown, Kurusu nodded at Goro again. He walked around and out of the kitchen. Goro paused for a moment before joining everyone as well.

With a few waves and a long, final look with Kurusu, the group filed out. Goro almost got chills, thinking of gray eyes looking sharply at him.

Ohya sighed, her arms crossed. “Well, we got more all set and done than I thought we would.”

“I agree,” Sae said. “And I’m sure you all discussed more while we were in the other room.”

Goro leaned against the back of the couch. “Just some more personal things.” He smartly didn’t state he’d just had two conversations with a ‘sentient’ cat.

It was quiet between them. “I think I’ll go to my room,” Goro said.

It’d been an afternoon of ups and downs. Getting a space to himself was unexpected, but welcomed. And the encounter going _smoothly_ to say the least was… also unexpected. Obviously, it’d worked out in his favor that way.

But, fuck, he’d discovered he’d been shot in the forehead by some man he _already_ hated, so he couldn’t imagine how deep underground his feelings really ran. And the amnesia was an entirely different story—he barely had a clue on what horrifying severity he should be expecting.

And he was still skeptical about the cat.

There was a knock on his door. He called to let them in, and Ohya stood waiting.

“Hey, kid,” she said softly. “Cool if we talk a little bit?”

She sat down next to him. He waited for her to speak— she seemed like she was working herself up for something.

Finally, she sighed.

“You know when—When they’d mentioned a Kurusu before, I didn’t think it was him,” she said, looking forward but not at Goro. He didn’t say anything since he’d assumed as much, and if this was all she had to say then he shouldn’t draw it out.

His lack of reply must’ve spurred her on. “He’s, uh—a good kid. Good guy, you know. Heart’s in the right place and all that. If you’ve ever found it in ya to trust me, you can trust him, too.”

“Mm."

There was a long pause. Ohya drummed her fingers on her legs.

“I really never would’ve guessed. You were sort of on opposite sides of the same problem,” she continued on. “And I know that this seems a bit weird to zoom into, but it just kinda. It shocked me to see him here, is all. But if there's a guy for the helping out job, it’s him.”

Goro turned to face her. It was enough to get her to peer over and see him try to look understanding (even if he didn’t _feel_ understanding, and wasn’t even sure where this conversation was going).

“Thank you for the… endorsement, for his sake,” he decided to say, which made Ohya laugh carelessly.

“Your vocab needs looking at, kid."

The room returned to the stale silence once again. Goro didn’t mind, really, but there was something that needed to be said.

“Ah, though I know it didn’t seem much like you planned to go on,” he began, clearly invoking Ohya’s interest. She had such a way of enthusiastically listening. He wondered if it was a journalist’s habit. “I’ve been warned that I shouldn’t try to encourage any memories on my own. They say my condition might be more unstable than anticipated.”

Ohya’s eyes widened, and she fully faced him now. She pulled a leg up onto the bed. “Your condition?”

“Apparently, simply ‘amnesia’ isn’t completely applicable.”

Ohya nodded him on, her listening face even more intensive now.

“They told me this was an after-effect of something larger,” he continued, keeping his head up. “Something called a psychotic breakdown? And a very severe case, at that.”

Ohya’s face dropped at the words.

It was almost dread, just before it warped into disbelief, and then a smooth curve into realization and anger. She looked away almost viciously, before settling into a deadly quiet.

“Fuck,” she swore.

Goro hadn’t expected the reaction. She put her hand over her mouth, seeming to delve deeply into thought.

Once the silence had dragged on, Goro tried.

“Ohya-san—”

“You know,” she interrupted with a sneer and a break in her voice. “You could trace every problem in this _country_ and it would lead back to Masayoshi fucking Shido.”

She gulped deeply, like she was swallowing her words.

She looked back to Goro, and he realized he’d never seen her this upset.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

She left.

The door shut calmly, and not much long after did he hear the front open and close. He sat staring at the door, shocked at the sudden vulnerable display.

It’d obviously been from his mention of psychotic breakdowns that’d gotten her worked up. There must’ve been a connection there, but he didn’t know what. Something like that, it seemed personal. He was hesitant to even consider asking.

Not to mention, Masayoshi Shido’s name had come up yet again today. Really, it had come up again just in general. He hadn’t mentioned to her that he was the one who shot him in the head as well— he wondered how that man managed to both invoke a breakdown and hammer a bullet into Goro’s skull.

Kurusu’s wording from earlier rang in his brain. Implying it was _casted_ , and not to mention Kitagawa had said he’d done it to himself. Was he supposed to be some extension of Shido’s will?

Had his attempted death been by his own hand as well?

He felt something sticky start to boil up in his throat. The acidic feeling got him to remember this was exactly what he _shouldn’t be doing_. Not without whatever proper monitoring that Kurusu’s _cat_ had suggested, and not with whatever bias Goro would surely stumble upon. He tried to swallow down, distantly wondering why Morgana seemed so damn knowledgeable anyway.

Goro was clearly missing information. He shouldn’t get ahead of himself. Really, he’d ought to think about how to dance around the breakdown subject the next time Ohya made herself known.

There was another knock. Calling a _come in,_ he fully expected when Sae opened up to greet him.

“I’m glad you’re still awake,” she said, staying very put in the door frame. “Ohya texted me— Futaba-chan says the owner of the café wants to meet with you.”

Ohya’s episode had completely cleared Goro’s mind of his new living space. “When?” he asked.

“As soon as possible." She started to close the door, but before shutting it completely said, “We can talk about it more in the morning.”

Goro took a long exhale. There was an order he needed to live by. First was his housing, then was his doctor, _then_ came whatever research was necessary for his memories. Getting them back didn’t quite make the cut, right now. He needed to focus.

He’d already been aware he had dug himself into a hole—and that was fine. It was the way he’d lived back then. He needed to focus on the way he was living _now_.

So he sighed, and walked to his meager laundry hamper of clean clothes, and thought first things first: find something to wear to the café that didn’t scream _“I am a threatening amnesiac who could drop dead at any second.”_ If as soon as possible could mean tomorrow, he’d be ready.

It was a bit mundane. But it was living.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the next lil bit updates will not be bi-monthly OR monthly, they'll be strictly monthly :D

Goro stood outside café Leblanc with Ohya and Kurusu at his side.

Sakura had, in fact, meant the next day. He was dressed as smartly as he could, knowing that first ( _first?)_ impressions were among the most important. It was convenient that the owner was willing to see him so soon—he needed to at least look grateful.

And he was, genuinely. He wouldn’t have imagined he’d get a chance like this, and it took someone pretty lenient to let a stranger live on their property so quickly. Goro needed to make sure he didn’t waste the opportunity.

Kurusu had explained (in pointedly few words) that he’d already talked to the owner today. Told him that he didn’t need to worry too much, and he could probably relax. Ohya had tapped him on the back saying that if things looked like they were going south, she was sure pulling some strings to change his mind wouldn’t be too hard.

Goro, despite their comforts, still felt in the dark about what to expect. Which was natural; he felt in the dark about most things. He’d been walking blindly thus far, and he’d been doing relatively well. Really, it wasn’t this that was bringing his nerves. He could be civil and polite, but unknowns were becoming comfortable ground. If that was good or bad, Goro wasn’t sure.

Largely, what was making him uncomfortable was Ohya. While he wasn’t staring, he could see from the corner of his eye that she was glancing at him with a sharp look in her eye. Kurusu didn’t make a comment about it, but he surely noticed too. Goro wondered if she planned to elaborate on her outburst from last night, or just let the awkward air hang.

Though with barely a moment to even ask, Kurusu opened up the café door to show them in. Done and over with preparing for the worst, Goro took a deep breath and followed, with Ohya right behind him.

It was quiet. The atmosphere was calm, and the smell of coffee and something Goro couldn’t quite place sat in the air. There weren’t any customers around, though Kurusu _had_ mentioned the owner went out of his way to close the store to the public. Another aspect that should’ve added to Goro’s nerves, but he was much too distracted by Ohya to even consider it.

Goro wanted to say the environment made him feel more than it did. But it being a generally nice place didn’t quite spark anything. He supposed that was for the best.

The only people in the café were Sakura sitting on the barstool, (Morgana on a table, but Goro wasn’t sure if he could consider him a “person”) and the owner standing behind the counter. He was an older man, probably just past what you’d call middle aged, holding a newspaper in his hands and a cigarette in his mouth.

Sakura had been typing away on her phone, looking up upon hearing the door chime and grinning.

“Heya,” she said, sliding her phone in her jacket pocket. “Sojiro, they’re here.”

“I can see that,” the owner said with a sigh. He put down his newspaper and walked around to meet them at the door. Nodding at Kurusu first, he stared Goro and Ohya down with a stern look in his eye.

“Nice to meet ya,” said Ohya with an easy tone, one that surely didn’t match her attitude. “Ichiko Ohya. I’m a journalist.”

Goro needed to focus. This was happening right now, and if all he thought about was Ohya’s behavior he wouldn’t get where he needed to be. This _was_ something serious, lazy atmosphere or not. “I’m Goro Akechi.”

The owner grunted. “Yeah, I know. Futaba told me about a journalist, and uh…”

“He knew you, a little,” Kurusu clarified quietly. “You were a regular for a little while.”

Ah, so this _really should’ve_ been familiar, then.

The owner just shook his head. “Well, have a seat. I just want to confirm something for myself.”

The owner went to the back of the café, and looked like he was starting to cook something. Goro sat in a booth, Kurusu took a spot across from him, and Morgana hopped over from his table to theirs. Ohya on the other hand sat on the far end of the counter, completely out of sight. That might be good, keeping the distractions to a low—look at what's in front of him rather than ponder about last night.

It was quiet, for a while. No one moved or spoke, save for the owner who went about his business. Kurusu offered to help him once (so he can cook?), but was gently rejected (oh, maybe not, then?). So they all simply sat and waited for the owner to start whatever interview process he planned to go through.

A comforting smell filled the air, and it was easy to relax into. It wasn’t coffee, it was something more complicated. He inhaled deeply, letting the air settle into his lungs, and rested further into his chair. This was certainly an environment he could get used to. He didn’t like the face Kurusu made at him, though, an almost devious and fond smile at his breath.

Ignoring Ohya, _Kurusu_ was also a major concern. Throughout the day, Goro’s read on Kurusu was evolving. He was becoming contradictory to what he’d assumed. A quiet and polite man wasn’t proving to be correct. It was just in little ways, but his natural state was hard to come by.

Goro was brought back into reality when the owner finished cooking their meals. He had two plates in hand, walking to their table and setting the plates down like he’d done it a million times. He had, probably.

What sat in front of him was a full plate of curry, with rice still steaming stacked next to it. The food looked homely enough to match the café, bringing a feeling cozy and warm. It was almost hard to describe, because Goro wasn’t sure he really knew what home _meant_ right now. But he was willing to let it be this.

He didn’t start to eat. Goro wasn’t sure he was allowed to, somehow, with the look the owner had been giving him. Staring down at it, that feeling of home was ready to wash over him. Though only if he let it.

“Futaba told me about what happened,” the owner said, raising an eyebrow. Goro looked up at him, while he glanced between Goro and Kurusu. “Go on, eat. I’m not gonna yell at you, or something.”

Goro still felt hesitant while he watched Kurusu pick up his own spoon. Neither of them had started without permission, but the difference in confidence was clear. Kurusu naturally belonged here, he practically blended in. Taking a bite of his curry, he gestured for Goro to follow suit.

Finally did Goro take his spoon. He felt stupid, making dramatics over eating. But it made the hair on his arms stand on end, being watched like he was. Filling his spoonful with curry and rice felt like he was loading a gun. Which made him wonder, even if just for a moment—had he loaded a gun before?

Focus. He took in the smell a moment longer before taking his bite. It was delicious, and Goro had expected it to be. Maybe a little spicy, but not enough to make him cough. It was easy to swallow, and probably the first genuinely cooked-ish thing he’d eaten since he woke up.

Kurusu had said Goro had been a sort of regular here. It’d been five years since he’d eaten here, though there wasn’t even a hint of nostalgia. It was just delicious curry.

The owner looked at Kurusu for a long moment, and they held eye contact. Goro took another bite, and the owner's gaze went back to him. There was clearly some sort of communication that Goro didn’t know. A bonded trust, or something like that. Meaningful looks that Goro wouldn’t understand, silent nods and agreements.

It meant that whatever was going through the owner's mind was thoroughly out of Goro’s hands. It was frustrating, but easy to accept. His life was a ball to be thrown around, as of late.

“You really don’t remember anything, huh?”

Goro wouldn’t be asking for so much if he did. After a slow nod, the owner grunted and pulled out a chair to sit on. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a short time to think to himself.

He slid his glasses back onto his face, and turned directly to Sakura.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

For a moment, Sakura’s eyes went big. But her gaze turned determined, and she smiled. “Yep. I thought about it and I’m okay.”

The owner didn’t look like he believed her entirely. To be honest, Goro didn’t believe her either. She acted big, but her eyes looked unsure and her smile wavered. Another case to worry about then, was whatever conflict he’d had with Sakura.

But even with her unconfidence, the owner took her word for it. With a deep exhale, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked towards the stairs.

“I guess I needed some more help around here, anyway,” he said.

Goro blinked.

“You’ll let me stay?”

That had been less of an interview, and more of a lot of quiet staring.

“One wrong move, and I’ll throw you out.”

Goro nodded eagerly, and in complete understanding. It wasn’t like he was intending to cause any problems, not with the position he was in. Kurusu’s face lit up, and Sakura hummed in approval. She drummed her fingers against the counter.

“I kneeew you were still a softie, Sojiro! No lying to me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The owner stood up to go back behind the counter, seeming resignedly satisfied. He paused for a moment then looked at Goro. “You can call me Boss, by the way.”

Already trying to seem more innocent than he felt, Goro tried a grateful expression. “Ah, of course.”

With a lean on the counter, Sakura smiled at Boss. “It’s gonna be starting today, right? Time for papa-bear antics.”

The owner didn’t get much of a chance to reply, the sound of a chair squeaking out from its place giving way as a distraction. Ohya stood up and stretched her arms over her head.

“Innn that case,” she began, not showing that sense of discomfort that she’d been sporting for the past hour or so. “Since we don’t want Akechi-kun out much in the public, I can go grab his stuff from Niijima-san’s. Not much to carry, after all.”

In all honesty, it seemed very much like she _wanted_ to get away. Which was more unusual than Goro would’ve anticipated. Usually, she wanted to be right in the action and know just what was going on. Or even double check that this was a good path to take. Goro wondered what her outburst had meant to her, or rather, what his condition did.

Kurusu also seemed to pick up on it. He still didn’t say anything, but he watched her carefully as she reached over to shake Boss’s hand and awkwardly wave a goodbye.

Once she was gone, Kurusu offered to show Goro the attic. Boss had been giving Sakura a look for a little while now, surely meaning they needed a moment to talk. Even disregarding that, Goro _did_ want to see where he was going to be taking up lodgings indefinitely. He agreed to go upstairs.

Leaving their food mostly finished, Goro followed Kurusu up. The wood creaked with age as they walked, stairs leading to a dusty attic.

It wasn’t too bad, all things considered. It certainly looked like it’d been untouched for a while, but it was obvious it had been lived in as well. A bed against the corner, a T.V. on a table— there was a desk, and bookshelves, and even a couch.

Goro couldn’t say he _knew_ what cozy felt like, but this seemed to fit the bill.

He looked around, thinking about how this was where Kurusu had lived. Years ago surely, but he’d been the last one here. Perhaps there would be some clues to lead Goro to uncover more about him.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw the large flag displayed on one of the walls. Goro had seen the symbol enough in the case files to recognize it on sight: the Phantom Thieves mascot. Bright red and gaudy, it brought an out-of-place splash of color to the otherwise bland room.

“A fan of the Phantom Thieves?” Goro asked, taking a moment to observe the flag more carefully. It looked well maintained, even professional. Certainly not from a cheap knockoff store, there was dedication in its creation.

Kurusu joined him by the wall. He had a mischievous gleam in his eye. “More than a fan, I’d say.”

Goro gave him a quizzical look. Kurusu opened his mouth, but then seemed to think better of it and instead turned away, wandering over to the bed. He wiped off some stacked dust and sat down, then gestured for Goro to sit as well.

Goro sat down on the couch instead, and Kurusu just about smiled.

“I probably shouldn’t elaborate,” Kurusu said. “Since we’re trying to avoid retriggering anything.”

Goro sighed into his seat, flicking off specks of dust. “I’m not sure I _want_ to know.”

Which was a lie. Curiosity was a plague, and that had been quite the statement. Though if he’d been so entwined into Kurusu as he was implying, then maybe it was for the better. A psychotic breakdown didn’t sound inviting.

Kurusu gave a small laugh, the first one Goro had heard, and brought his legs into a criss-cross on the bed. For a little while, they sat in silence. It seemed his company tended to lean towards the quiet. Goro didn’t mind, he liked the time to think, though he’d be lying if he wasn’t itching to make a certain kind of conversation with Kurusu.

Maybe they couldn’t talk _details_ , but it was too much leaving what was unsaid. Goro wanted, at least, to know about Kurusu. Just who had he poured his heart out to in writing? Who was it that was helping him, seated so comfortably in this quiet?

“Who were you to me?”

Perhaps that’d been a little forward, but Kurusu didn’t seem surprised by the question. There was a knowing expression hidden on his face, and he considered what he wanted to say deeply. Goro could tell that he was thinking.

“I dunno if I can tell you that. Not for the reasons you’re probably thinking. I just don’t know.” Kurusu rested his hands down in his lap and stared at them, pausing for a moment. He sighed. “I know what you were— _are—_ to _me_. But I really don’t know what I was to you. And I’m not sure it’d be my place to guess.”

Goro hummed quietly. That was a better answer than he’d expected. It was like a distance being maintained, but a mutual one. He colored himself satisfied, at least with that question.

He’d still like to know him, at least partially. Perhaps he could figure out for himself who Kurusu had been to him. Or, who he was going to be now. “Then tell me about yourself.”

It was hard to read what Kurusu thought of the demand. Honestly, Kurusu was hard to read in general. Goro thought he’d been getting better with re-understanding how the world worked around him, but Kurusu threw him through a loop.

_All in due time,_ he thought.

“I guess that’d be fine,” Kurusu said, also studying Goro’s face intensely. “What I’m up to right now won’t trigger anything, at least probably.”

Goro waited, a little shocked at his willingness. He’d seemed so reserved the day before. Unsurprisingly, it was proving all the more difficult to get a read on Kurusu.

“I guess we’ll start with… Well, I’m 22 and I just graduated from college. I have a bachelors in social sciences, but I work at a guitar repair place. Can’t really figure out what I wanna do,” Kurusu explained. “I don’t play, though. I just know how the strings work.”

Goro nodded, though he didn’t know what to do with the information. It was nice to know, he guessed, but this seemed pretty average so far.

Kurusu raised his eyebrows.

“Is this _really_ what you want?”

For a moment, Goro was taken aback by the question. But as Kurusu stared, something unnerving came from the silence. A deep frown began to curl its way onto Kurusu’s face, and it almost made Goro feel like he’d done something _wrong._ Which was horseshit, because he’d asked a simple question, and gotten a simple reply. What about that had been wrong?

He supposed Kurusu had asked a simple question as well. There wasn’t a reason he should be giving it the time of day. But it made him pause, and Goro didn’t understand why.

The frown deepened. “Sorry,” Kurusu said. “Dumb—that was a dumb question. Ignore me.”

_Then don’t fucking ask,_ Goro thought to himself, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to just ignore that. Already Kurusu was grinding his gears. He hoped there was some redeeming quality he had that he’d latched onto as a teen.

Not letting their awkward silence linger any longer, Kurusu spoke up again.

“Oh I, uh. I talked to the doctor down the street. She said she’ll get back to me for an appointment time.”

“May I ask what you explained to her?” Goro asked. He’d like to know what sort of façade he should put up in front of who.

“General gist. She’s plenty trustworthy, so don’t worry. She’s going to try and get you into the clinic after-hours.”

Maybe feeling a little ticked wasn’t the best option Goro had, but it bothered him that Kurusu’d been so open about his information. He understood that a doctor should be informed, but at least giving Goro a heads up about _just what was going to be said_ would’ve been nice.

Goro hummed, but didn’t sound pleased. If Kurusu noticed he didn’t say anything. How often would he stay quiet, only talking when it benefited him? The less he understood about Kurusu, the more annoyed Goro got.

Whatever kind of person he had been anticipating, Kurusu wasn’t the perfect fit. Had he been wrong? Were the letters addressed to someone else entirely? Had Kurusu put _himself_ into the delusion that they were for him, and dragged a memoryless Goro along? Just the thought of it was frustrating.

“You look like you want to say something.”

Goro grit his teeth. “I don’t particularly feel inclined to tell you.”

To Goro’s utmost annoyance, that got an actual laugh from Kurusu—a totally entertained chuckle. How wonderful that at least _one of them_ got amusement from Goro’s irritation. He hoped his memories would supply some sort of explanation to why he’d spent any time in his company.

After Kurusu's little fit to himself, he seemed to remember something. Pulling out his phone, he gave a quick sigh at whatever it was he saw on the screen.

“I gotta go,” he said, and Goro couldn’t tell what his inflection was like. “I’ll be late for work at this rate.” He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and stood up.

Not quite feeling like he should be in the attic by himself yet, Goro got up as well. He followed Kurusu downstairs without a word, still seething a bit at how pleased Kurusu seemed. It could easily be mistaken for charm, but Goro wouldn’t fall for that.

Only Boss was downstairs, Sakura having left the café. Morgana was still lounging on the table, giving Kurusu a meow as he walked down the stairs. He shrugged in reply to whatever Morgana had (allegedly) said.

Kurusu took the bag he’d set down in the booth and held it open, prompting Morgana to leap inside and nuzzle around until his head popped out the other side.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Kurusu nodded to Boss. He began to leave the café, and Goro thought that was it, but he paused at the door and turned back.

“Don’t wait up for me.”

Goro dug his fingernails into his palm, hearing Morgana meow something almost annoyed as Kurusu fully left Leblanc. He’d known him for all of an hour, and Goro already could barely stand Kurusu. Maybe he couldn’t get a grip on him, but he knew surely that he would be a bothersome force to reckon with.

Boss sounded exasperated when he sighed. “Wish I knew where he kept that attitude.”

“So he’s always like this?”

“Depends.”

Well that didn’t satisfy Goro at all. _Was_ there a low-down on this guy? It was going to keep pestering him until he figured Kurusu out.

It was only himself and Boss in the café now. Frowning and looking annoyed probably wouldn’t earn him any points. Switching to a sweeter personality, he tried to look pleasant. “Thank you again.”

A very long exhale came before his response. “Dunno why I can’t ever say no.”

The door chimed. Unexpectedly, in walked Sakura again. She looked nervous, fiddling with her fingers and looking down at her shoes. She glanced up to Goro, and then looked away when she saw he’d been looking at her. She made a disgruntled noise, and Goro wondered what was wrong.

He remembered that there was a chance they hadn’t gotten along. Boss’s hesitance was only soothed by her confirmation, after all. Anxieties were to be expected then; maybe he was going to be asked to retreat upstairs.

Finally, after what seemed to be a very frantic internal debate, she said something.

“Uh… Akechi…-kun…” She trailed off slowly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Boss fold his arms and wear a deep frown. He didn’t intervene, but he seemed ready to. Now Goro was growing actually concerned something might happen.”

“...Yes?”

She made another weird noise. “I… uhhh…”

Goro waited for her to continue. She seemed conflicted, with little beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. It was different from her attitude yesterday, which had gone from shy to a silly sort of assertive. She was dripping with a sort of anxiety now.

She balled up her fists, and with a final squeak, she shouted.

“ _WEWEREAWESOMEFRIENDSDOYOUWANNAPLAYVIDEOGAMESWITHME?!”_

She was breathing heavily, looking like she wasn’t confident in what she’d just said.

“Oh.”

Goro was entirely taken aback. He wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her correctly. She’d called them… _friends_? Maybe? He didn’t think he’d had any. And with her reaction he wasn’t sure he believed her.

Goro realized she asked him a question. She looked desperate, and he was curious on where she was going with this. Not to mention he was a little baffled himself.

“Sure?”

“COOL,” she replied robotically. “I’M GONNA GRAB ONE.”

“Futaba—” Boss tried, but stiff as a board she marched out, leaving the cafe in an odd quiet.

Goro stayed put, and after a second Boss shook his head. “She can be… awkward. Just let her be.”

Boss seemed like he was growing concerned. Despite how he’d reassured Goro, it was like he didn’t approve of what she was doing. He kept a deep thinking scowl directed at the door, and a lingering silence.

So then, this was absolutely suspicious. Hopefully not harmful, but she didn’t seem like the type who could deal much damage. Goro would go along to where this would take him.

“Why don’t you wait for her upstairs.”

That wasn’t quite a request. Goro didn’t want this first impression to turn sour, so he nodded and turned straight on his heel to head back up into the attic.

He sat again on the couch, hands resting in his lap. Goro had been _almost positive_ he hadn’t had friends. Whatever his relationship with Kurusu had been was one thing, the situation regarding Sakura was another. And if she was lying, why would she pretend they were close now?

It was hard not to feel just… a little happy about it, though. That he could’ve had one, or that someone had wanted to be. Whatever Sakura was up to, it couldn’t completely mask the carefree feeling that he’d been a little more wanted than he thought.

He heard the door open, though she didn’t come right upstairs. Probably, Boss had wanted to say something to her. Goro waited, tempted to eavesdrop but not exactly wanting to get caught on his first day here.

Eventually Sakura wandered up the stairs, dragging her feet along the way. She had a cardboard box in hand, probably full of the aforementioned games. Goro had noticed a console next to the television, so he assumed they’d be playing on that.

“Uh,” she began, still standing at the top of the stairs. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I just brought… a bunch of things.”

Goro tried to talk non-threateningly. "That’s fine. I also don't know what I’d like.”

Sakura blinked to register that, and then nodded quickly. She walked over, and set the box down, then sat on the floor next to it. Staring down at the floorboards, she seemed like she was contemplating something.

Goro pressed his lips together, then decided not to wait. “...Sakura-san?”

She actually jumped. Goro almost apologized, but she dug her hands into the box and pulled out a game. Quickly she fed it into the console, and when nothing happened she fiddled around anxiously with the wires, until she realized she needed to plug it in.

Goro could tell this was getting out of hand. “Sakura-san,” he said as she frantically began working with the controllers. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

She tensed, and then completely stopped. For a moment they fell into a silence, and Goro thought he really might have said something wrong.

“I’m not... forcing myself.” She gripped one of the controllers hard and glared down at it, her knuckles almost turning white. Goro couldn’t see her face, bangs and glasses doing well to mask her. Her voice almost sounded jaded. “I’m just trying to figure this out.”

Not sure if she meant the console or the situation (though, he was leaning towards the latter), Goro didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to do, so quiet was the best option.

She was still for a while, before she started plugging more in until the television lit up on the opening screen.

There were some chairs folded up around the room. She took one, and Goro quickly stood and followed to grab his own. They set up in front of the T.V., sitting a few feet away. She handed him a remote and he took it, and soon they were both fully prepared to start.

Though she didn’t press anything. They simply sat on the start menu, staring quietly and listening to the easy music.

She was still holding her controller tightly. Sakura was obviously younger than him, he wasn’t sure how much, but there was a sense of… obligatory worry he felt. It was certainly new, to worry over someone that wasn’t himself.

Goro tried. “Sakura-san—”

“You used to call me Futaba,” Sakura interrupted. She didn’t meet his eyes, and she was making an odd face. “So you can… call me that now. Okay?”

Goro swallowed. Neither of them made a move. He assumed she wouldn’t, until he responded.

“Alright, then.”

As predicted, finally _Futaba_ began to start up their game. Without a word, she launched them into something about spaceships and lasers. She started clicking away, and it was here that Goro fully realized that he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Futaba began the game without explanation, and Goro was a little shocked seeing how fast she worked. There was no room to copy: her fingers moved almost on instinct. Goro pathetically tried to keep up, but didn’t even know where to start. His (or at least, what he thought was his) character got hit with a laser, and he died.

Futaba won, and she set the controller down on her knee, balancing it there.

“You suck,” she said.

Goro frowned, a little annoyed. “I don’t exactly know how to play.”

A certain realization struck onto Futaba’s face, and maybe she’d forgotten. Goro thought it’d earn him an explanation, but soon she relaxed into a grin.

“Doesn’t matter. You still suuuuck.”

Goro huffed. It wasn’t like he could help it. She started up another game with no warning, and left Goro to attempt to fend for himself in the grand scheme of space.

He died quickly again, but this time once Futaba noticed she giggled. Goro decided he wouldn’t get frustrated over something as stupid as an old game. He sat with his arms folded as she beat the level, and frowned at her haughty laugh when it showed the difference in their score points.

“Your noobery is unparalleled. I’m almost impressed,” she said, once again starting another level without offering Goro an explanation.

That was their back and forth for a while. Futaba cleared six levels, and only on the fifth did Goro begin to grasp what he was supposed to do and actually achieve that. But with the growing difficulty, it was more like he understood more thoroughly why he died, rather than actually making any ground.

Futaba set them back onto the home menu. Putting her controller down, it seemed like she was done for the day.

“I’m gonna go home. You better be good at this next time I come over,” she told him, hoisting herself up from her odd sitting position. “Akira can at least put up a fight. You should train with him.”

Goro rolled his eyes, a little too annoyed at this gaming nonsense to think hard about a reply. “I don’t see myself in his acquaintance anytime soon.”

“Oooh, he pissed you off?” Futaba asked, sounding amused. She stopped her getting up and looked at him with a certain brand of delight.

“I don’t think I’d give him the luxury of getting under my skin, but his first impression wasn’t great.”

Something about Kurusu made Goro itch. In fact, his first impression had been so all over the place that Goro couldn’t place exactly _what_ he was feeling. There was no getting a grasp on him.

“You better not tell him that. I promise you it will _not_ hurt his feelings. He has an ego and that will fuel it _.”_ Futaba tapped her fingers on her knees. “He’s already at max level with you, so your affection points are off the charts for him. But since you don’t _remember_ that, he’s probably gonna take some getting used to.”

Goro understood… about half of that. “What?”

As was seeming to be a trend, she did not elaborate. Standing up, Futaba stretched her arms over her head and wiggled her toes. “I’m super actually gonna go now.” She picked up her cardboard box and started down the stairs. She looked over her shoulder. “Practice or you will face my wrath!”

And like that, she was gone.

Whatever she needed to adjust to, she seemed like she’d adjusted. It’d been awkward at first, but she had certainly pulled things into her own direction. There was still something suspicious, but he would let things run their course. Suspicious didn’t necessarily equate nefarious, after all.

Through a short struggle, Goro shut the game down. He wasn’t exactly opposed to practicing, he’d probably have a long time to himself after all (not to mention, he did want to stop failing so viciously), but now wasn’t really the time. He turned off the console and folded away the chairs.

Alone, but not really feeling lonely, Goro decided first he’d need to clean up. Ohya would probably be back anytime now. While he didn’t have much, he’d still like somewhere clean to put things.

Exploring some of the boxes that were left around, he succeeded in finding a duster. It was beginning to bother him that the state of this room was so poor. A proper dusting would do nothing but good, he thought.

It wasn’t long before the attic was decent. He pushed a few things around just for his own sanity, and gave it a looking at. Far from perfect, but he hadn’t been expecting something flawless. In fact, this place had met or even exceeded his expectations thoroughly.

He heard the café door open, and then he was called downstairs. Assuming Ohya had made her entrance, Goro wiped off any dust that might’ve stuck to him and wandered down.

She had two cloth bags on her arms. They were stuffed full with Goro’s clothes, and in her hands was Goro’s box of case files and letters.

“Help her out,” said Boss, and Goro did. He carefully took the box out of her hands with a light ‘ _oof,’_ from Ohya.

She grinned, her lips in a thin line. “Welp, show me up.”

Goro was beginning to lose count how many times he’d been up and down the stairs today. In the attic he set his box on a shelf, and Ohya put the bags in front of his bed. She wandered around aimlessly, looking at the windows and knick-knacks around the room.

In her silence, Goro realized that things were still a bit odd with Ohya. He hadn’t really _forgotten,_ but in his time around Kurusu and Futaba it’d slipped his mind.

He let her roam. It probably wouldn’t be his place to bring it up—and by her typical attitude she would either tell him what was on her mind or let it slip away from conversation. Though this was lasting longer than their usual dancing around of subjects, so he thought she might really be considering her options.

It was tempting to convince himself not to care, but... he was curious. Now he was getting to know her, and this was all off. Mildly concerning, as she was supposed to be a ‘ _pillar to lean on,_ ’ in a sense.

Thinking on it, Goro didn’t really know much about Ohya. He supposed it went both ways—she didn’t know much about him either. But Ohya’s personal life was a genuine mystery. No word on family, or friends, or relationships. He was in the dark for just about everything around her. The most he knew was that she was friends with Kurusu, which wasn’t reassuring. Kurusu was his own nut to crack.

He had a loose grasp on Ohya. He knew generally what she was like, and how she preferred to go about her own business. And it wasn’t explicitly bad that they weren’t on the most personal terms. Many people valued their privacy, Goro could understand that.

But now he was met with the fact that he had no idea what to do. If he wanted to help her (which… he wasn’t sure. Helping someone else hadn’t really been on his mind as of late. Not to mention, was Ohya someone he _wanted_ to help?) then he didn’t have the sources to do so.

Goro sat down on the bed. His getting into a private room wasn’t going to be the end of his interactions with Ohya. It wasn’t like he was actively trying not to get along. Or that he wanted to end their acquaintanceship. Though, at the same time, _did_ he want to know her well enough for this? For something personal and private, did he want to get that close to someone?

“You have that terrible thinking face on again,” Ohya said suddenly. “The one that makes you look like a fifty year old man.”

He blinked, then registered what she’d said. He gave a sigh. “That would be because I’m thinking, Ohya-san.”

“Uh huh. Figured as much.” She grinned, and sat down next to him. She took a deep breath, and sat with her legs apart, leaning her elbows on her knees and letting her hands hang loosely. “You got a bone to pick, or something?”

She was beating around the bush again. Playing a bit dumb, or maybe it was just pure avoidance. Goro kept getting asked difficult questions today, didn’t he.

“I’m not a mind reader, Akechi-kun,” Ohya said, but then physically looked like she regretted the statement. Like she knew she was being unreasonable. “...Just. Tell me if it’s about me, okay? And then I won’t ask anymore.”

Goro had no reason not to be blunt. “It is.” And then, after a pause. “It isn’t my business. But you obviously know more than I do.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Ahh… Yup, yeah, thought so. I’m glad you’re so direct sometimes.”

Tapping her feet on the floor, she seemed like she was contemplating what to say. They both were facing forward, not really looking at anything but pointedly not making eye contact.

“I guess I do owe you a kind of explanation for yesterday, huh.”

“You don’t,” Goro said, mostly because _he_ never quite felt the need to explain himself. It wasn’t like he was particularly scandalized by what’d happened, but it had surely been sudden, and left him with questions. “But I wouldn’t mind one.”

Ohya buzzed her lips. “I do more than you think. Cause it involves you more than you think.”

Interested, Goro waited. She cleared her throat, then took a moment to search for a way to phrase it.

“Okay, well. Psychotic breakdowns. Scary stuff, right there,” she began. “Crazy mental toll, and has some pretty direct ties to another condition. Partially for what it does to the victim, partially who did it, et cetera et cetera. I’m not sure how much of that you already knew, but that’s kinda the beginning, I guess.”

“‘Another condition?’”

Ohya nodded. “Yeah. Weren’t sure they were tied before, but with the confession and some doctors statements, they found a kind of link. Basically, someone fucked around where they shouldn't've.” She paused, and made a low and gruff hum. “There’s psychotic breakdowns, and there's mental shutdowns. Same bastard orchestrating them both.”

Goro was sure he could guess who. “Masayoshi Shido again?”

“Yep.”

She went quiet for a moment, though Goro didn’t think she was done. Probably, she was considering where to go next.

‘Mental shutdowns’ was a new term to play with. He may have to ask someone else for specifics, unfortunately that someone being most likely Kurusu. Ohya was informed, but she may be the wrong person to ask.

She continued. “Long short of it is, a real close friend of mine ended up with a shutdown. Poking her nose into some dangerous territory, and she got fucked over. It was years ago, and she’s still… recovering. I refuse to say it's hopeless, but even I can admit when things don’t look good.” She swallowed around something, cleared her throat again. “So I… I guess I started realizing that you’re wrapped up in something way bigger than you are. Cause I—“ she swallowed again. This obviously wasn’t something that she thought was easy to get out. “I care about you, kid. And I don’t want to see you in a hospital. And I don’t want to think I can’t help you.”

Goro felt a bit dumbfounded. Coming from Ohya, that had been extremely heartfelt. He didn’t know what to reply, but Ohya had more to say anyway.

“You’re young. And you _were_ young. And it’s fucking horrific to think about what you could’ve done to deserve that, and what you were a part of. I already knew you were involved with Shido, and you know that. But just thinking about what he might’ve done to you, it… I dunno. It was enough to make me freak out a little bit.” A final deep breath. “I’m sure you’re sick and tired of big talks today. You talked with Sakura-san, and I know you talked to Kurusu, and I heard you’d talked to Futaba-chan as well. So, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for yesterday, too.” She closed her eyes, and then faced him solidly and fully. “But I’m really _really_ happy you’re alive right now, Akechi-kun. Let’s keep one thing straight, yeah?”

There was silence, for a moment. Then, Ohya stood up.

“Okay, no more of that. I’ve got a job I have to do, and I’m sure we both wanna be outta this feelings-y shit as soon as we can. So I’m gonna go, if you’re cool with that.”

Goro didn’t quite look at her. “Good luck with your work.”

Ohya smiled wide.

“Thanks.”

And she left. No final looks or snide remarks. She walked down the stairs and out the door. The sun was setting, orange light washing into the room, and Goro was alone and would be for the rest of the night.

He flopped back onto the bed, sinking into the mattress. He closed his eyes and let his body relax.

_Heavy day._

An understatement, really. He didn’t know what else to call it. People were talking to him left and right, coming out with new little tidbits that he was being asked to absorb all at once. To an extent, he enjoyed it, but he’d be lying if it wasn’t a little overwhelming.

He really hadn’t expected Ohya to open up to him. Or even offer an explanation. He didn’t know where to begin to unwrap it.

For a while, he’d known he couldn’t outright trust Ohya. Even as she grew on him, it was clear that he couldn’t fully place his faith in her. Or anyone, really, but Ohya was specific. As a certain kind of caretaker, he was dependent on her.

But he realized, he was beginning to _want_ to. Obviously he wouldn’t. He _couldn’t_. But it was a thought that wasn’t going away. Coming back to him if he let his mind wander too far.

He needed to get a grip. A little change in scenery and a few deeper talks wasn’t a replacement for a bond. He didn’t _need_ bonds. If he could get by on his own, he would. This wasn’t permanent.

As usual, he felt exhausted. He really needed to see a doctor; this couldn’t be normal. He hoped Kurusu would get back to him soon. Annoying as he was, he was important right now.

If Goro tried to fall asleep, he knew he could. Just letting himself relax enough to drift away would be more than enough.

Goro knew he tended to think things once, twice, and three times too many. It was almost a habit, or just a way of being. But now he just wanted to sit here and take what he could at face value. Read into it another time. Let himself indulge just this once.

But stubborn like a mule, Goro didn’t.


End file.
